The Day the Circus Came To Boonesborough
by Whistlepig
Summary: "The Day the Circus Came To Boonesborough" is a sequel to my story, "Keepin' Christmas." In Circus, Daniel meets a monster taller than himself. Mingo meets a French coquette. And Tommy Tall Trees falls in love.
1. Chapter 1

"The Day the Circus Came to Boonesborough"

Chapter One

"What's in these here kegs, Mingo?" Daniel Boone growled irritably as he handed up another keg to the Cherokee standing in the wagon bed.. "Lead?"

"You're close, Daniel," replied Mingo smiling as he accepted the keg from Daniel's hands and stacked it neatly in the wagon. "These are kegs of nails."

"Nails?" echoed Daniel in disbelief. "Why in thunder are we buyin' nails when our blacksmith can just as easily forge 'em in Boonesborough at one-tenth the price?"

"One of Fat George's little idiosyncrasies, Daniel," Mingo said mildly as Daniel hoisted another keg up to him. He added it to the growing wagon-load and added, "You know as well as I that under British law, all iron smelted in the Colonies must be returned to England to be made into 'useable items' and sold back to us at inflated prices. If we want nails, we must buy nail stock lead for our smiths to forge them or buy them from England. Either way, the British take a tidy profit."

Daniel shook his head in disgust and bent to lift another heavy keg. The two men were in the town of Salem, picking up Cincinnatus' monthly delivery of supplies and taking care of settlement business. This month's list of supplies was large, and most of the items the old tavern keeper requested were heavy.

The two had spent most of the morning locating and purchasing the items on the list. There were the kegs of nails and gunpowder, four crates of rifles, barrels of flour, paper-wrapped cones of caster sugar, coffee beans, boxes of tea, bolts of fabric, all the various and sundry items the settlers of Boonesborough deemed necessary for life and happiness.

Suddenly an ear-splitting sound filled the air.

"What in tarnation?" Daniel swore and jumped . The keg of nails he was holding slipped out of his hands and landed on the big man's foot.

Daniel grimaced and massaged his sore foot as Mingo stood in the wagon bed, hands on hips, laughing.

"Is anything wrong, Daniel?" he asked solicitously.

The noise came again, a horrendous noise somewhere between the roar of an angry moose and a bellowing bull. Daniel looked around for the source of the sound, "Don't tell me you didn't hear that, Mingo!"

Mingo nodded calmly, and continued stacking supplies in the wagon. He straightened up and stretched.  
The sound came again. Daniel jumped again. It was unlike anything he had ever heard. He appealed to the grinning Cherokee, "You ever heard anything like it, Mingo?"

Mingo shrugged his shoulders, "It sounded like some sort of animal call, Daniel. I suggest we take a short break, and have a bite to eat. Perhaps the sound will explain itself." He too looked around to see where the sound came from, then bent to rummage under the seat of the wagon.

"What kind of animal makes a sound like that?" Daniel queried.

Mingo hesitated before answering. "It would certainly be unlikely. . . extremely unlikely .. . " He was interrupted by the sound again. It was very loud and much closer..

"What is it?" Daniel demanded. "What do you think it is?"

Mingo wrinkled his nose thoughtfully, "It sounds to me like an elephant!"

"An elephant," Daniel repeated skeptically.

"You have heard of elephants, Daniel?" Mingo teased.

"Heard of 'em. Never seen one," Daniel looked at his friend. "You ever seen an elephant, Mingo? Outside of a book, I mean?"

Mingo nodded. "Yes, when I was a young lad. The Tower of London has a menagerie, Daniel, that is open to anyone who is able to afford the price of admission." He frowned, remembering.

Daniel saw the frown. Getting Mingo to discuss his time in London was like pulling hens' teeth.

Impossible.

Mingo jumped down from the wagon with their bag of provisions in his hands. Daniel reached over the side of the wagon and pulled out a jug of water. They crawled under the wagon into the shade, out of the hot noonday sun. Daniel un-stopped the jug and took a long pull as Mingo pulled out bread and cheese, only slightly stale, wrapped in a cloth. He drew his long knife and sliced off chunks of each and passed them to Daniel, who handed the jug back. Mingo was taking a thirsty swallow, when Daniel tapped his knee and pointed down the street.

A loud voice was haranguing someone else. The unmistakable Cockney accent caught Mingo's attention and he grinned broadly.

"'Ere now, 'ere now!" the voice was saying, "She may be big as an 'ouse but she ain't h'indestructible! Be gentle with 'er! She's a lady, she h'is!"

From their vantage point under the wagon, both men looked to see who the indestructible female might be.

Daniel saw Mingo's jaw drop in astonishment. He knew his mouth must be hanging open too. For coming down the street was, indeed, an elephant.

She was a dainty, feminine creature, standing about ten feet high at the shoulder, with enormous leathery ears. Daniel guessed she weighed at least four tons if not more. Her skin was wrinkled and gray; the lady looked as if she had rolled in the dirt caked in her wrinkled creases. She used her long trunk to gently caress the shoulder of the man accompanying her, the owner of the loud Cockney voice. He was still speaking, this time to his "lady".

"Come along, come along now, love," he was saying in what Daniel guessed were tender tones. "We'll soon find you a nice barn with plenty of 'ay and water." The man was of average height, well-built. His voice, even when not shouting, was still loud and strident. He was theatrically dressed in a plaid suit with large buttons. He had carroty red hair.

"Daniel," Mingo blurted suddenly, "I believe I know him!" Daniel watched in amazement as Mingo crawled out from under the wagon and dashed off toward the man and elephant, still holding a chunk of bread in his hand.

Daniel followed more slowly toward the elephant and her companion. He searched his memory for anything he had ever read about elephants. Though he hoped he was a brave enough man to face any wild beast, he had never seen anything as huge as this mammoth seemed to be and felt a bit of caution might be called for. Mingo, now, on the other hand, seemed never to have heard that fools rush in where angels fear to tread. To Daniel's relief, Mingo slowed and approached the elephant with care.

Mingo called to her caretaker. "I beg your pardon! Philip! Philip Astley, is it you?"

The tall man was patting the elephant's cheek lovingly, and he looked around. When he saw that he was being accosted by a feathered savage speaking better English than his own, he too looked astonished. Well, that made three of them, Daniel thought, grinning.

"Don't believe H'i've 'ad the pleasure. . ." he began as Mingo extended his hand.

The elephant daintily picked the bread out of his other hand with her trunk and stuffed it into her mouth. Mingo began to laugh, and Daniel joined him, if only in laughter.

The man snapped his fingers suddenly, "You don't look like 'im, but you remind me of Kerr Murray!"

Mingo gave an exaggerated bow, "Formerly Kerr Murray, I am now simply Mingo, of the Cherokee," Mingo said, grinning. "Daniel Boone, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Philip Astley, late of His Majesty's 5th Dragoons."

Daniel was standing a cautious 15 feet away.

Mingo teased, "Come along, Daniel! This can't be the first time you've seen anything taller than yourself!"

Philip Astley whistled and extended his hand first to Mingo, then to Daniel. "Not the Daniel Boone, H'i'll be bound!"

Daniel stepped forward to take Astley's hand and found himself grinning at the boisterous man. "The same, I'm afraid. How do you come to know Mr. Astley, Mingo?"

Mingo was smiling too, "I had the pleasure of attending several of Philip's performances in London many years ago, Daniel. Philip is an 'enfant terrible'. He is also the finest equestrian acrobat, I believe, that the world has ever seen! Do you still run your riding school, Philip? What brings you to the Colonies?"

Surprisingly, Astley flushed with modesty. "H'i've a knack with 'orses," he admitted. "Don't know if H'id call meself a h'equestrian, though. H'i 'ave plans to build my riding school into a H'amphitheater! Thought H'i'd combine a little thirst for adventure with a trip to the Colonies to try out my troupe. Then H'i 'eard about Old Bet 'ere," he gestured to the elephant and gave her shoulder a tender pat. "'Ad an opportunity to pick 'er up cheap - only 100 guineas," he boasted. "'Ow could any man resist a h'opportunity like that? "

He gestured at Mingo, from his moccasins to his feathers. "You're lookin' rather different than when H'i saw you last, mate. Don't look much like Lord Dunsmore's lad now, do you?"

Old Bet had grown bored with the conversation, and began to rummage with her long trunk in Astley's pockets, searching for some treat. Daniel watched with fascination as the animal searched methodically. She found nothing, and remembering the bread she had taken from Mingo, began running her trunk over him, sniffing his buckskin jerkin, his sheathed knife and bullwhip. She lifted and investigated his necklace and touched his hair gently. Mingo stood quietly, Daniel noticed, showing no sign of alarm, allowing her to inspect him. Her trunk with its finger-like appendage delicately touched the feathers adorning his head. Before the Cherokee could move away, she had snatched the feathers from his hair and stuffed them into her mouth.

Daniel and Astley laughed at the chagrinned Cherokee. "Probably h'aint too good for 'er digestion," Astley said, "but H'i agree with 'er opinion of your attire!"

"You said he don't look much like you remember," Daniel said, grinning.

"When Philip knew me, I was still the proper Englishman," Mingo admitted. "I am far happier now, Philip, living with my mother's people, the Cherokee, than I ever was in England.

Daniel became aware that the elephant was now eying him with great interest. She stepped nearer and Daniel's apprehension vanished, changing to deep curiosity, as her trunk began searching through his pockets as well. Gingerly Daniel touched the leathery trunk and the appendage at its end as Bet dexterously investigated the contents of his bandolier. Her trunk suddenly emerged with a penny. Daniel watched as the elephant held it up to her eye and inspected it. She popped it into her mouth quickly, tasted the bitter metallic flavor and removed it even faster. Deftly, she replaced the slobbery penny back into his bandolier. In spite of himself, Daniel chuckled aloud. Old Bet cocked her head and regarded him with a mischievous eye. Quicker than a flash, she snatched his coonskin cap off his head and stuffed it into her mouth. She chewed for a moment, deliberated a second longer, then removed the cap and carefully replaced it, also slobbery, back on his head. The mischievous eyes considered for a moment, then the trunk made a small adjustment. Daniel's hand moved to right his cap, but there was no need. Old Bet had settled it in place as well as Daniel himself could have done.

Daniel's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Better give 'er the rest of that bread and cheese before she decides to taste any more of you," Philip advised.

Daniel and Mingo burst into laughter

Obediently, Daniel fed the rest of the stale bread and cheese to Old Bet, whose manners were better than some of the settlers in Boonesborough. She accepted his offering graciously and crammed it into her mouth.

They found a shady spot in the yard of an inn near the warehouses. Daniel fetched a pitcher of ale and tankards. Mingo carried a plate of fresh bread, cheese and fruit. Astley had arranged to board Old Bet in a livery stable next to the inn. She was happily devouring the second pile of hay in an hour, eating with great pleasure. The giggling maids had brought fruits and vegetables from the inn's kitchen and were daring each other to hand them to Old Bet. From where they sat, Astley could keep a keen eye on his latest acquisition.

Daniel poured them each a tankard of ale and Astley began to speak. He told them of his plans to exhibit Old Bet in tavern yards and stables on his way to New York. He had purchased her a few weeks before from a sea captain in Charleston who had bought the elephant in London for 20 pounds.

"Made himself a healthy profit turnin' right around and sellin' her to you, didn't he?" Daniel commented.

"Money well spent, Mr. Boone - 'e didn't know what a prize 'e 'ad plus she's the first h'elephant h'anyone in the Colonies'll 'ave seen, H'i'll be bound," he boasted. "Only thing is, we'll 'ave to travel by night. Can't 'ave anyone seeing for free what H'i'll be charging h'everyone else a shilling for, now can we?"

"Travelin' by night'll be mighty risky," Daniel advised Astley.

Astley was unimpressed. "Mr. Boone, 'oo in 'is right mind would attack an elephant? H'i'll either be riding my lady, or leading 'er with a lantern. Hi've spent years in front of French cannons, as a rough rider, and an 'orse trainer. H'i ain't feared of brigands and thieves!"

Under the shady elm trees in the inn's yard, the talk of circuses continued. Most circuses, Astley said, were in the habit of traveling by night, with someone walking ahead of the wagons with a lantern to guide the way. It was great for business, he asserted, when the come-ons woke to see a circus already set up outside their settlement!

Though traveling shows were old news in England and Europe, Astley told them he intended his show to be a revelation to the American Colonies. Circuses went back thousands of years, Astley informed them. There had been acrobats, tumblers, contortionists, jugglers, funambulists, clowns, tightrope dancers, dancing animals, and human oddities since time immemorial, by these names or others, since humans had first paid a coin to see a show. In his personal experience, he went on, the more difficult tricks were best performed in an "amphitheater" - Astley's own word for a circus - permanently situated. A traveling show relied on dependable, simpler feats to amaze its audience.

"The come-ons, circus patrons, h'if you will, Mingo, Mr. Boone, they don't know the difference between a well-turned performance and a poor one. They'll clap for a pretty trick sooner than a difficult one every time!"

Mingo's hands kept wandering to his featherless head. He said, "Philip, what will you and Old Bet do when you reach New York?"

"Oh, we'll join the rest of my troupe," Astley said blandly, "Liberty 'orses, flip-flappers, rope dancers, jugglers, tumblers, tight rope acts; Old Bet'll be the start of my menagerie. When H'i get to New York, perhaps Hi'll look about for some lions or bears; trained h'animal acts," he added airily. "Of course, H'i myself will perform equestrian stunts that'll astonish everyone. Trick riding, don't you know. Got me a little pony, trained 'im myself. Used to ride h'around London with Billy in me cart," he added. At Daniel's start of surprise, Astley grinned, "Yeah, 'e rides IN the cart with me. Makes 'em all take another look, Hi tell you!"

Mingo grinned suddenly, "You don't mean Little Billy, the pony you had all those years ago, Philip?"

Astley nodded, "One and the same; 'e's pushing 30 years old now, but 'e's a game little chap." He nudged Mingo suddenly, "Do you remember the 'Tailor Riding to Brentford'?"

Mingo laughed out loud, "Indeed I do!"

Astley said, "Reckon you Colonials'll love h'it as much as the Brits do?"

"Tell him about the 'Tailor Riding to Brentford'," Mingo urged Astley, laughing. "It's probably Philip's most famous stunt, Daniel!"

"Well," admitted Astley, "H'it's a favorite of mine too. When H'i joined 'Is Majesty's 5th Dragoons, H'i was only 16. Started out as a rough rider, breaking the 'orses for the soldiers. The officers looked down their noses at those of us 'oo came from shopkeeping backgrounds. H'i will admit, most of us couldn't ride to save our lives. They'd poke fun at us, riding like sacks of potatoes tied to a saddle. Called us all 'tailors'."

Mingo interrupted, "It's far more difficult to pretend to ride badly when you are an excellent rider, Daniel. Philip acted out a tailor riding to wait upon a customer. It's a sketch about a clumsy little fellow who couldn't get on his mount. He could barely stay on, much less ride. He would have his entire audience in stitches, until the very end when Philip would reveal just how extraordinary a rider he really was!"

Mingo went on to persuade his friend Philip to talk about his riding school in Lambeth, near Westminster Bridge, where he had first witnessed Astley's extraordinary exhibitions of horseback riding skill. Daniel listened, fascinated by this glimpse of a world foreign to him in more than distance.

"Halfpenny Hatch," Mingo smiled. It sounded like Haypenny Hatch to Daniel's American ears. "I remember it well, Philip. All of the schoolboys at Oxford tried your stunts after we visited your riding school! The infirmary never saw such a variety of broken bones and sprains!" The Cherokee was clearly far in the past, remembering.

"Yes, 'Aypenny 'Atch," Philip agreed. "H'i always thought you rode like a ruddy H'Indian, old chap! Now H'i know why!"

Deftly, Mingo turned the conversation away from himself.

"The word 'circus' is Latin for ring, Daniel," Mingo advised him. "Philip came up with a brilliant idea. Tell him, Philip!"

Astley blushed, surprising Daniel. "H'it's like this, Mr. Boone," he said. "H'i discovered, quite by h'accident, that the perfect diameter for a schooling ring is 42 feet. H'if an 'orse canters in a circle, at a constant speed while they lean h'inward a bit, centrifugal force will 'elp a man keep 'is balance. That 42 foot ring provides 'im with just exactly the right amount of centrifugal force for the most natural balance. With the right balance, a man with a little talent and determination can do anything on an 'orse 'e's a mind to!"

Daniel had never heard of centrifugal force, but Mingo was nodding his comprehension.

As far as Daniel was concerned, Mingo and his friend Philip Astley might as well be speaking Greek. The events and names they spoke of meant nothing to the big Kentuckian. He really did not mind; it was rare to see Mingo smiling and talking with people from his previous British life. Daniel turned his attention to Old Bet, who found their conversation no more interesting than he did. Astley and Mingo were so engrossed in conversation they did not notice as she plunged her trunk deep into the water trough. Old Bet proceeded to drench them with water she squirted through her trunk. The elephant lifted her trunk high and trumpeted with almost human glee while Daniel laughed out loud too.

Astley laughed louder than Daniel and Mingo at Old Bet's water trick.

"Should've warned you about that," Astley chuckled, "Does h'it every chance she gets! Got quite a sense of 'umor, she 'as!"

Daniel found himself liking the loud-voiced, somewhat rude Astley more and more. In spite of his obvious brilliance, the man showed no conceit whatsoever, just a calm acceptance of his own skill. He admired the kindness Astley showed the elephant, Old Bet. If Astley treated his horses with the same care he showered on Old Bet, no wonder he could coax such incredible feats out of the animals, Daniel thought.

The three of them spent most of the afternoon under the shady trees in the inn's yard talking and laughing.

Daniel and Mingo rose to return to the task of loading the wagon with Cincinnatus' supplies, bidding Astley goodbye. Daniel picked up the last apple and carried it over to Old Bet, who accepted it politely and stuffed it into her mouth. Daniel let his hand wander up her trunk, marveling at the roughness of her hide, gazing into her wise, dark eyes. Suddenly Old Bet lifted her trunk and trumpeted. This time Daniel didn't jump at the sound.

"Mr. Boone!" Astley came hurrying over. "You h'are a lucky man! Circus folk believe that when a h'elephant lifts 'er trunk after being stroked, you'll 'ave your own circus someday!"

"H'Israel will be thrilled," murmured Mingo into Daniel's ear. "H'i can see 'im performing h'incredible feats of skill on 'orseback, can't you, Daniel?"

Daniel laughed at Mingo's precise Cockney imitation of Astley. "Yes, indeedy! Mr. Astley, it's been a real pleasure! Perhaps we'll meet again someday!" 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

(One month later)

Daniel Boone awoke with a start when a hand clamped itself over his mouth. He reached instantly for his knife, then relaxed when he realized that the hand belonged to his friend, Mingo. He nodded, sheathed the knife again, and sat up.

"Come quietly and quickly, Daniel," Mingo whispered. He rose silently to his feet and waited while Daniel grabbed his rifle, Tick Licker.

Mingo led the way through the woods to a clearing, stepping carefully and silently. It was early morning, just before first light. The two Kentuckians had been on a hunting expedition. Mingo paused behind a fallen log and gestured to the open field before them. A small herd of about ten does and two bucks were grazing quietly. One of the bucks remained alert, his ears moving to catch any possible noise. The buck kept constant watch on the meadow. Each vole or squirrel merited a flick of his tail or a swivel of his ears. At each motion, the other deer lifted their heads cautiously. The does and the other buck continued grazing as Daniel and Mingo watched. The men sat patiently, careful to make no noise or sudden movement to startle the grazing deer. Daniel gestured toward Tick Licker, wondering if Mingo intended to shoot one of the deer. He shook his head. His finger went to his lips to indicate that Daniel should remain silent.

Suddenly a glossy black horse cantered into the field. The deer seemed unsurprised by the horse's sudden appearance. The does continued grazing as the horse circled the meadow.

Mingo's hand found Daniel's sleeve. "Watch, Daniel!" whispered the Cherokee. His dark eyes never left the open meadow.

Suddenly the horse wheeled itself around and darted toward the deer. Its speed increased as it gathered itself and sprang into the air. And neatly leapt over six of the standing deer. The deer scattered to the four winds, as the horse circled the meadow, clearly pleased with itself.

Daniel's mouth fell open in astonishment, and the Cherokee laughed out loud at Daniel's surprise.

"I saw him do it last evening, and thought I had dreamed it. He's done it several times already this morning while you slept."

"What in tarnation. . . ?" Daniel took off his cap and scratched his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Daniel," Mingo chuckled. "The deer seem not to be bothered by the horse. They scatter every time he plays his prank, but they gather again, and he leaps over them again. I think the deer are having as much fun as the horse!"

The two men gathered their rifles and stepped out of the woods into the meadow. The horse spied them and came trotting up, shaking its shining black head and tail.

Daniel held out his hand, and the horse came close, unafraid of either man. Daniel and Mingo stood admiring the animal as Daniel searched in his bandolier for something to use as a hackamore for the animal. The animal was well-cared for, with large intelligent eyes, tossing his head, almost as if he expected a reward for his performance.

"I doubt that any of the settlers would have the time or knowledge to train a horse to perform a trick like that," Mingo observed, as Daniel fashioned a crude halter and slipped it over the animal's head. "I've seen this sort of stunt performed at Philip Astley's riding school in England. There are displays of horsemanship, trick riding, things of that nature. What other kind of person owns an animal like this?"

"I ain't never seen anything like it, Mingo," Daniel shook his head, "Reckon this horse is lost. Might as well head for Boonesborough and see if anyone's lookin' for him - he's important to someone, that's for certain."

Mingo grinned, "Yes, by all means, let us find out. Perhaps we should hope that Rebecca wasn't counting on serving venison tonight!"

**********

"Pa!" Israel Boone came flying out of the open gates as Daniel and Mingo approached the fort. "Guess what!?" The white-haired child's excitement changed to astonishment as he spied the black horse his father was leading. "Pa, that's the horse the man is lookin' for!"

"Israel Boone," laughed his father, as he ruffled the boy's hair. "What are you doin' at the fort? Where's your ma and 'Mima?"

Daniel quickly handed the lead to Mingo and caught Israel as the boy launched himself into the air.

"They're in the tavern with Cincinnatus, Pa," the boy responded, "Pa, guess what!? There's gonna be a circus in Boonesborough! And the man who owns the circus lost his horse!"

Daniel and Mingo exchanged confused looks. When they had encountered Philip Astley in Salem, the man had said nothing of his circus being anywhere near Boonesborough.

Suddenly a Scottish voice called, "Cornplanter!" The horse, to their astonishment, suddenly bowed to the owner of the voice.

A dark-haired man of average height, of a wiry build came striding out of the tavern. "Cornplanter, you naughty fellow! Where did you escape to?" The man hurried over to the horse, and began running his hands up and down the horse's legs, while the horse nuzzled him affectionately, searching his pockets for a treat.

"'Cornplanter'?" Daniel asked. "Strange name for a horse."

The man smiled at Daniel as he took a piece of sugar out of his vest pocket and palmed it for the horse to eat.

"Yes, I bought him from General Washington in New York. He was already named after an Indian fellow of the general's acquaintance. Seneca chief, I believe I was told. I understand that you are Daniel Boone, the man this settlement was named after?"

Daniel nodded, "Yep, I'm Boone. This is my friend, Mingo." Mingo bobbed his head in greeting.

The man extended a hand first to Daniel. He hesitated before offering his hand to Mingo.

"I am John Bill Ricketts, formerly of Scotland, now of New York City," he said smiling broadly. "And this young man," he gestured at Israel, still perched on Daniel's hip, "I understand to be your son? I have a boy about his age."

Daniel nodded, "Yep, he's mine. What's this about a circus coming to Boonesborough?"

Ricketts assumed a pose and began a spiel, obviously recited many times. "Not merely a circus, Mr. Boone! An extravaganza of equestrian skill, trick riding, tightrope walking, clowns, jesters, jugglers, and oddities of the human condition! A display to stagger the imagination, sir!"

Mingo grinned and shook his head, "Mr. Ricketts, I have lived in London. I'm afraid that you will find it difficult to stagger my imagination!"

Ricketts was taken aback by Mingo's cultured accent. "If you will pardon my curiosity, sir, I must ask: a savage who speaks the King's English better than I do?"

Mingo nodded, "My mother was of the Cherokee. My father was born near Oxford. I was educated there."

"Indeed, sir, indeed," Ricketts said, but changed the subject smoothly. "Mr. Boone, where did you find my lost Cornplanter?"

"We discovered him in a meadow cavortin' with deer," Daniel began, but Ricketts interruped impatiently.

"Was he leaping over them?" As Daniel and Mingo nodded in surprise, Ricketts continued, "He can leap over six horses all standing 16 hands high. He is quite full of his own importance! I believe him to be the best trained horse in America!"

"You said you bought him off General Washington in New York?" Daniel questioned.

"Yes, indeed," the Scot seemed to swell with his own consequence. It seemed that the man and the horse shared an overweening ego. "I gave the General $100 for him just three years ago! I taught him all his tricks."

"It seems odd that such a valuable horse should be wandering around the wilderness alone," Mingo probed.

"Cornplanter is a horse of many talents, my dear sir. One of his skills is that he can remove his own saddle, and he can also untie knots. The stable boy left in charge was unused to Cornplanter's little pranks. When he fell asleep, Cornplanter simply freed himself and set off."

"Thought you said a circus was comin'," Israel reminded them. "Just you and one horse ain't no circus! Where's your elephant? Pa and Mingo saw an elephant in Salem!"

Daniel and Mingo laughed, but Ricketts looked faintly annoyed. "My dear Master Boone," he said, "I came in search of Cornplanter. The remainder of my circus is following in a caravan of wagons. They should reach Boonesborough by tomorrow afternoon. We shall be pleased to present a performance on the afternoon following. All and sundry are invited." He surveyed Mingo from moccasins to the feathers atop his head, and added, "If you would care to make our presence known to the aborigines of your tribe, I assure you that they would be welcome too."

Daniel still had questions. "Mr. Ricketts, why are you and your circus out here in the backwoods of Kaintuck? I hope that you're aware that though we're at peace with the Cherokee, there are still plenty of hostile Indians in the territory."

Ricketts smiled. "Mr. Boone, I am planning on erecting a permanent circus in New York City. We are traveling there from New Orleans, where I hired a pair of aerialists for my troupe. I am giving my performers a chance to perfect their skills as we travel, on the unschooled audiences of Kentucky before exposing them to the more sophisticated tastes of your capital city!"

Ricketts was a consummate showman. "Mr. Boone, to express my gratitude to you and your Indian companion for finding and returning Cornplanter, I would deem it a great honor if you and your families would be my guests at our performance!"

Israel's face lit, "Mingo, will you go and fetch Tommy? I ain't seen him in a month of Sundays!"

Tommy Tall Trees was Israel's newest and very best friend - a half-Cherokee, half-white boy giant who had ambushed Mingo the winter before. He and his companion, Billy Baggett had been raiding Daniel's and Mingo's trap-lines. Tommy had redeemed himself in Daniel's eyes by saving both him and Mingo from the evil Billy. Mingo had taken Tommy with him back to the Indian village at Chota, where Tommy had, at long last, found a place he belonged.

The Cherokee smiled at Israel and nodded, "I will indeed go to Chota and fetch Tommy. My uncle has been making sure that Tommy receives a proper Cherokee education. I have not been able to spend as much time with him as I had hoped.." Mingo then turned toward Ricketts. "I will also make sure that the rest of the 'aborigines of the tribe' know they are welcome too!" Mingo added, in mocking tones.

Israel jumped to the ground, and took off for the tavern whooping, "Ma! 'Mima! Guess what?! Tommy's comin' to see the circus!"

************

Two days later as the Boones, Mingo, and Tommy approached the clearing where the circus would perform, they each received a printed handbill. Rebecca and Jemima spread out quilts on the ground where a good-sized crowd had assembled, and everyone took a seat.

"'The Famous American Horse, "Cornplanter", will at the Word of Command Un-girth his Saddle, and take it Off his Back - He will also Pick Up a Handkerchief or Glove. . .'" Jemima was reading the handbill aloud to the fascinated Tommy, who had never learned to read, and Israel. "'The Horse was Purchased in New York three years Ago, and only Cost One Hundred Dollars. Mr. Ricketts is Conscious of His being the Best Trained Horse in America. . . .'"

Tommy's delight in seeing the Boones again was contagious. The giant boy had clearly flourished during his time with the Cherokee. He had put on weight, and seemed to have grown in confidence with his acceptance by Mingo's tribe. He was thrilled to be in the company of Israel and Jemima, who could not take her eyes off Tommy. There was quite a lot of Tommy to see - the boy giant had grown nearly six inches over the summer, bringing him to nearly a head taller than Daniel .

Daniel was amused to see that Tommy's voice had finally changed from falsetto to a more manly tone.

"Mingo," Daniel whispered to his friend, "Tell me if'n I'm wrong, but that boy looks like he's grown a head taller!"

Mingo grinned, "Your eyes haven't deceived you, Daniel. The women of the tribe are all in competition to feed the boy. He lives in my lodge when I am in the village, but my uncle, Menewa, has welcomed Tommy into his lodge when I am absent. He's quite a favorite with my uncle and my cousin Tekawitha!"

Jemima turned at the mention of Tekawitha's name and scowled at Mingo, who pretended not to notice

The tavern keeper, Cincinnatus, was passing in front of the crowd of excited spectators calling "Popcorn! Rock candy! Licorice!" He was carrying a kettle of popped corn, sweetened with honey. A basket was slung over his arm holding candy, and the old man was trying to carry both.

As the wily old man stopped in front of the Boone party, Daniel called, "How 'bout some of that popcorn, Cincinnatus?"

Cincinnatus wiped his sweating forehead on his shirt sleeve. "Put some o'them handbills to use, Dan'l."

Daniel nodded and rolled the handbill into a cone. He gave the point a twist, and Cincinnatus ladled popcorn into the cone and handed it to Israel. Daniel rolled more cones, and Cincinnatus ladled popcorn into each one. Soon Israel, Jemima and Tommy were busy eating sticky popcorn. Becky and Mingo shared a cone between them, while Daniel laughingly dumped popcorn into his mouth.

Cincinnatus handed chunks of rock candy to Tommy and Israel and winked at Daniel, "No need to worry about payin' me, Dan'l," he said airily, "I'll just put it on your tab!" Daniel grinned and nodded, and Cincinnatus hurried off to make the circuit of the crowd, calling, "Popcorn! Rock candy! Licorice!"

"When do you suppose Mr. Ricketts will begin to 'stagger our imagination,' Daniel?" Mingo asked as he popped a bite of the sticky popcorn into his mouth and chewed.

Daniel had eaten his popcorn, and was lying back on the quilt, hands under his head. He lifted his head, surveyed the crowd and grinned back, "Looks like most of us bumpkins are already here, Mingo."

Most of the families in and around Boonesborough were present, seated like the Boones on quilts and blankets. The crowd had begun to gather as early as sunup. Some had brought food in baskets and were prepared for the duration. Many, like the Boone party, had found shady spots with a good view of the events to take place. There was a holiday feeling in the air. Few, if indeed any, of the settlers had ever seen such a thing as a circus.

The performance would take place on several canvas tarpaulins laid on an area of grass which had been scythed flat. From the number of tarpaulins laid out, Daniel guessed they were in for quite a show. Two tall poles had been planted in the ground with a rope pulled taut extended between them. Wooden rails marked out a large, crude circle.

"Pa," said Israel, through a mouthful of popcorn, "You ever seen a circus?"

"Not a circus like this," admitted Daniel. "I've seen trick ridin' when I was a boy in Pennsylvania. Mingo says he's seen 'em in London."

"Yes, indeed," Mingo agreed absently. "What are the odds, Daniel, that both Ricketts and Philip Astley should be in the Colonies simultaneously?" he asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Daniel admitted. "Coincidence?"

"There is no such thing as coincidence, Daniel. With Philip Astley already here, I suspect Ricketts may have an ulterior motive. I don't like the man, or trust him."

Before Daniel could respond, Tommy interrupted eagerly, "What's the rope for, Mingo?"

Three pairs of young eyes turned to the Cherokee, who was clearly an expert on circuses.

"I believe it will be used by the tightrope walker, Tommy," answered Mingo. "There are three kinds of rope walking. There is tight-rope, which we will probably see here today: slack-rope where the aerialist moves the rope with his balance, and high rope, where the aerialist does the same stunts as the tightrope walker, only considerably higher in the air. I think the high rope can only be used in a building, not out of doors."

Tommy nodded, his mouth open in astonishment.

"What else do you reckon they'll have, Mingo?" asked Jemima.

Mingo pursed his lips consideringly before answering. "Oh, there might be cord dancers, or tumblers, juggling, or trained animals, I suppose."

Israel's eyes were rapt, as he stared at Mingo, "You ever seen any of 'em in London, Mingo?"

Daniel waited for his friend's answer. Mingo seldom discussed any details of his life in London before returning to Kentucky.

"Yes, Israel. My father saw to it that I was suitably entertained while I lived in London," Mingo answered drily.

"Your pa took you to the circus?" Israel persisted.

Mingo shook his head, looking uncomfortable. "No, Israel. I spent very little time in my father's company. I was allowed to accompany the servants to Bartholomew Fair, when I was a little older than you. There were sideshows, prize-fighters, musicians, rope-walkers, acrobats, puppets, freaks and wild animals."

It was clear that Mingo did not wish to answer any more questions about his English boyhood; Daniel caught the eyes of his children and Tommy and shook his head, indicating that the subject should be closed.

Just then, a dwarf emerged from one of the wagons at the far side of the tarpaulins. He carried a bass drum which he began to beat upon. Tommy, Jemima and Israel all were fascinated - none of them had ever seen a person so small.

The dwarf began to shout in a bored, nasal voice, "Come one, come all! Come one, come all! Mr. John Bill Ricketts begs your attention while he demonstrates the famous American horse, 'Cornplanter'!"

The Boone party all sat tall in expectation as Ricketts and Cornplanter came from behind the wagons and stepped into the ring.

The riderless horse began to canter steadily around the ring while Ricketts stood in the center watching. Suddenly, Ricketts took a running start, sprang into the saddle and rose to his feet. The crowd gasped as Ricketts thundered around the ring standing with one foot on the saddle and the other on the horse's neck. Suddenly he bent double, and proceeded to stand on his head while Cornplanter continued to canter around the ring. Ricketts went on displaying his tricks. Another black horse joined Cornplanter in the ring. Ricketts demonstrated his ability to ride with one foot on each horse as they galloped around and around the ring. The group of Boonesborough settlers went wild, cheering loudly.

Daniel grinned at the amazement of the children and the crowd. He looked to Mingo for his reaction. The Cherokee was sitting expressionless, apparently not surprised or impressed by the exhibition. Daniel was puzzled. Even Mingo's previous experience of circuses in London could not account for his attitude of polite but bored disinterest.

Ricketts continued his performance. He hung from Cornplanter's saddle by one leg, brushing his hat on the tarpaulin beneath the black horse's feet. Two men brought out poles with a ribbon stretched between. They stood about six feet apart near the wooden railing. The poles stretched the ribbon at least 12 feet into the air. As the astonished settlers watched, Cornplanter cantered around the ring without breaking stride, neatly passing between the poles. Suddenly Ricketts somersaulted into the air, over the ribbon, and landed on his feet again on the black horse's back. The dwarf returned to the ring bearing a basket. From it, the dwarf drew oranges and threw them to Ricketts as he passed, still standing on Cornplanter's back. Ricketts seized them in mid-air and deftly began to juggle the oranges as he thundered around the ring on horseback. Finally Ricketts pulled his sword from its scabbard and pierced all four oranges as the crowd roared its approval. He bowed from his waist, still standing on Cornplanter's saddle, and jumped lightly to the ground. A hostler hurried from behind the wagons and removed the saddle on Cornplanter's back, and replaced it with a large canvas pad. He led the second glossy black horse from the ring. Only Cornplanter remained.

The crowd rose to its feet clapping and roaring their approval. John Bill Ricketts and Cornplanter stood in the center ring, acknowledging the crowd's approval, but showing neither pleasure nor modesty in their own accomplishments. They stood silently for a few moments. Then Ricketts gestured to the wagons. A small boy of perhaps six ran out. Cornplanter again began to canter around the ring. Boy and man stood watching for a few moments. Then Ricketts somersaulted onto the horse's back again. Sitting, he bent low and extended a hand to the child. The child ran and grabbed the hand; Ricketts swung him onto his shoulders. The child immediately stood on Ricketts' shoulders. Ricketts himself stood and the two, standing on the pad, went round and round the ring. The crowd was frantic in shouting their praise.

"Master Francis Ricketts and Mr. John Bill Ricketts perform 'Flying Mercury'," intoned the dwarf, who apparently did double-duty as ringmaster for the little show.

The little boy and his father bowed and left the ring while Cornplanter continued to canter around and around. The horse finally stopped, took himself to the middle of the ring, and bowed as Daniel and Mingo had seen him do for Ricketts. The crowd continued to roar.

Israel's eyes were like saucers. Tommy too looked as if he too wanted to become a trick rider. Daniel grinned and shook his head. Mingo glanced from Tommy to Israel and began to laugh. Before Daniel could open his mouth to speak, Becky had pounced.

"Israel Boone! You get that thought right out of your head, right now!" Daniel's red-headed wife sputtered. "Tommy Talltrees, you can forget it too! Mingo!" she appealed to the laughing Cherokee.

"Tommy," said Mingo, trying to stifle his laughter, "I'm afraid that you are too tall for any of these horses. We'll have to search for a giant steed for you, boy!"

Daniel added his opinion, "Son, you could probably tuck one of those horses under each arm and run around the ring sooner'n you could do what Ricketts is doin'."

Tommy and Israel eyed each other in speculation. Just then Ricketts and Cornplanter returned to the ring. Ricketts placed the saddle he carried on the black horse's back and fastened it securely in place. He pulled on the straps to indicate that no trickery was involved. The horse immediately seized the girth with his teeth and pulled and teased until the girth had come loose. The horse grasped the saddle, pulled it from his own back and dropped it triumphantly at his master's feet.

"Jumpin' Jehosaphat!" exclaimed Tommy as Israel simultaneously cried "Criminently!" The two boys' heads spun around and they said in unison, "Mingo?"

The Cherokee studied them for a moment, then grinned. "It's an old trick, boys. Mr. Ricketts clicked his fingers together, and the horse took that as the cue to ungirth his saddle."

Just then, Ricketts and the trick horse left the ring. The dwarf announced in his flat tones, "Mr. Ricketts and Cornplanter will circle the crowd, and demonstrate Cornplanter's ability to pick up gloves, handkerchiefs, and sundry items!"

Ricketts and Cornplanter had apparently tired of their own performance. They circled the crowd desultorily. The horse pulled a bonnet off one woman's head and waved it while the crowd laughed loudly. He plucked a kerchief from one man's pocket, and picked up gloves or items that the crowd obligingly tossed for him.

When the horse stopped in front of Jemima and pulled the ribbon from her hair, Mingo had seen enough.

He rose suddenly and smiled at Becky, "Rebecca, if you will excuse me, I find that watching popinjays gives me a touch of megrim."

Becky looked surprised. She had never known Mingo to complain of any ailment, much less headache. "You'll rejoin us for supper, won't you?"

Mingo nodded, smiling. "Of course I will join you," he assured her. "You are serving stew tonight, are you not?"

Becky's concerned eyes followed him as he strode off. Daniel patted her hand reassuringly. "Mingo ain't ever been one to suffer fools gladly," he told his wife. "This Ricketts is a mighty fine rider, but his vanity and conceit are a mite hard to swaller."

The ring was being readied for the next act, a troupe of dogs and a small pony the bored dwarf called a "dog and pony show". Ricketts and Cornplanter were still working the crowd. Suddenly the crowd began to cheer. Ricketts' eyes narrowed and he turned to see what had caused this reaction.

Tommy had risen to his full height, now more than 7 feet tall, and was pretending to dance around the ring as Cornplanter had done. Israel Boone was standing on the giant boy's shoulders, his arms extended. Tommy's huge hands were clamped on the little boy's ankles. Israel had always been a great favorite among the settlers of Boonesborough, and Tommy, too, was well-liked. They were obviously imitating the "Flying Mercury" stunt that Ricketts and his son had just performed. Both boys were laughing as Tommy danced.

John Bill Ricketts was watching them intently.

Becky shivered suddenly, uncontrollably.

"Somethin' wrong, Becky?" Daniel asked her, as he beckoned for the boys to return to their quilt for the next act.

She tried to laugh, and failed, "I'm fine! I guess a goose just walked across my grave." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Mingo ambled aimlessly among the wagons. He wondered why he had allowed himself to be talked into attending the performance in the first place. Exhibitions had never appealed to him. Perhaps, he thought, it was because he had been put on display so often by his father. From the time his father had taken him to London as a boy of ten, Lord Dunsmore expected his son to be the perfect Englishman. Had expected him to excel at his studies in spite of the fact that the child Mingo had been raised as a Cherokee. Lord Dunsmore had not had any experience of young boys, much less young Indian boys, Mingo remembered mirthlessly. His father thought that locking his son in a room with books and tutors would produce the results desired. When the boy Mingo had not learned quickly enough to please his demanding parent, his father ordered the tutors to use a riding crop on his recalcitrant son. Mingo winced as he remembered the sting of the riding crop on his backside. And how often he had been beaten.

The boy was very bright, his tutors had assured Lord Dunsmore. The newly christened Kerr Murray simply needed more time to become accustomed to English ways and manners, they insisted. In time, the untutored, untamed little Indian boy learned to read and write, to speak perfect English, with perfect manners. He became the studious schoolboy his father desired. He developed an abiding love of reading and books. And just as deep a fear and hatred of locked places. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Mingo escaped across the ocean, returning to his Cherokee roots. He had never looked back or missed England. Or Lord Dunsmore.

The roars of the appreciative audience brought him back to present-day Ken-tah-teh . He shook his head and continued his strolling. The furious barking of the dogs indicated that the dog and pony show was probably ending. He wondered idly how many acts Ricketts' circus had.

His attention was caught by the sound of a loud argument. The arguing pair were Cincinnatus, the tavern keeper, and someone from the circus.

Cincinnatus was shouting, "It's a free country, ain't it? I got a right to sell my merchandise when and where I choose!"

Another voice, female this time, shouted back, "You haven't got the right to steal business from Mr. Ricketts! The money we make selling candy to the crowd is big money for us! You have no call to go selling your Indian food and rock candy when I'm trying to sell our jumbals and marchpane and lemonade!"

Mingo grinned and shook his head again and walked on as the arguing continued. His interest was piqued by the sound of more arguing. "There must be something in the air today," Mingo thought, with amusement.

He stopped and watched as an arguing pair stepped from one of the wagons farthest from the tarpaulined area, and hurried toward the ring. One was a blond man of average height, clothed in skin-tight, garish clothing and a satin cape. The other was a tiny woman, dark haired, wearing a spangled dress with a belled skirt that reached just past her knees. She wore a ballerina's red tights and slippers, and carried an impossibly small parasol. It was difficult to discern whether she was pretty or not, her face was so distorted by anger. She was gesturing broadly, and her tone was harsh. She was clearly furious with her companion, who occasionally made some response which she dismissed angrily.

Mingo stepped back into the shadows as the pair neared him. They were so deep in their argument they did not notice him as they passed. With a start of surprise, he realized the two were arguing in rapid French. Although Mingo did speak some French, their words were too quickly spoken, voices too low for him to grasp what the argument was about.

He followed the pair back to the makeshift ring, and stood watching as the man threw off his cape and climbed rapidly to the top of the pole. Fair-haired and muscular, he drew approving looks and murmurs from most of the women in the crowd.

The dwarf sullenly marched to the center of the ring and intoned, "Mademoiselle Marie Victorine Rousseau, and Monsieur Jean-Paul Baptiste LeBrun, funambulists extraordinaire!"

The dwarf produced three clubs and tossed them up, one at a time, to the man, who deftly caught them. He walked back and forth on the tight-rope, juggling the clubs twenty feet in the air. After a time, LeBrun dropped the clubs to the dwarf who then produced walking sticks for LeBrun to twirl and juggle. LeBrun was a freehand aerialist, using only his body for balance.

The crowd applauded their approval. LeBrun bowed to them grandly from his place on the tight-rope. The dwarf dragged a chair out into the ring. A rope was produced and LeBrun proceeded to pull the chair up to the rope where he balanced it carefully on one leg, and then sat in it, teetering precariously. The dwarf proceeded into the audience where he snatched hats off a few of the settlers, Daniel's coonskin cap included.

From Mingo's vantage point across the ring, Daniel appeared vaguely annoyed, but Becky looked amazed, as she laughed and applauded with the rest, then the hats were thrown into the air. LeBrun caught them all and juggled them for a few minutes. The hats were then dropped back to their owners. Suddenly LeBrun stopped and moved to one pole, where he balanced carefully. Whistles and catcalls from the men in the crowd announced the arrival of Mademoiselle Rousseau.

A knotted rope was lowered to Mademoiselle Rousseau. She grasped it in her tiny gloved hand and was carefully pulled up to the rope, posturing daintily. She snapped her parasol open and began to dance back and forth across the rope as easily as if she had been standing on the ground. She pirouetted and gestured, and twirled her parasol coquettishly, her angry argument forgotten as she played to the crowd far below. Her dark hair was in an elaborate braided style, her eyes large and dark in a heart-shaped face. Beautiful.

Mingo moved, as if in a trance, back to the quilt where the Boones and Tommy were sitting, and seated himself on the ground, without taking his eyes off the tiny Mademoiselle Rousseau. Daniel and Becky exchanged laughing glances as the Cherokee sat staring at the aerialist. Becky gestured toward Tommy and Israel, whose mouths were hanging open as they too stared. Suddenly Mademoiselle Rousseau began to sing, in a charming husky voice. Probably the only one in the crowd who understood any French, Mingo began to laugh as he recognized the tune and the song:

"Savez-vous planter les choux  
À la mode, à la mode ?  
Savez-vous planter les choux  
À la mode de chez nous ?

"On les plante avec le doigt  
À la mode, à la mode  
On les plante avec le doigt  
À la mode de chez nous

"On les plante avec les mains…

"On les plante avec le pied…

"On les plante avec le coude…

"On les plante avec le nez…"

Israel pulled at Mingo's jerkin, demanding, "What's she sayin', Mingo? What's she sayin'?"

Mingo chuckled as he translated, "'Do you know how to plant cabbage, in the style, in the style? Do you know how to plant cabbage in the style of our country? We plant them with the finger, with the hands, with the foot, with the elbow, with the nose'. I believe it is a children's song, Israel," Mingo smiled at the white-haired boy and ruffled his unruly locks.

Tommy, too, was staring at tiny Mademoiselle Rousseau, unable to take his eyes from her tiny person. It was unlikely that the petite little dancer would even reach Tommy's waist. Tommy gave a huge, heartfelt sigh as he gazed. Daniel, Becky and Mingo all laughed.

Becky teasingly asked, in tones of deepest, insincere concern, "How is your megrim, Mingo? I thought that you were going to go and rest until your headache left you."

Daniel winked at Becky and grinned.

Mingo gave her a sheepish glance. His attention returned quickly to the dancing Mademoiselle Rousseau. "Oh, I am fine, Rebecca! Merely a momentary twinge . . . " his voice trailed off.

Becky and Jemima watched Mingo watching the aerialist, and exchanged a smug look. The smitten Cherokee might not be saying much, but both women could certainly hear what he was thinking!

**************

The show ended much too soon for any of the children. The sun was setting in the west as the settlers gathered their belongings and tired children and began to leave for home.

Israel whined, "Aw, Ma, can't we stay longer? Maybe Mr. Ricketts'll do somethin' else with Cornplanter . . . maybe that boy Francis kin come and play with me?"

"No, Israel," Becky shook her red head firmly. "It's time for us to head home - it'll be dark by the time we get there, and I still have to fix us all some supper." She and Jemima folded the quilts neatly and handed them to Daniel to carry. "Come along!"

Tommy, the giant boy, looked at Mingo plaintively. "Mingo, do we hafta go now too? Maybe the little French lady'll come out of her wagon. I'd really like to tell her . . ." he wheedled.

Mingo was sympathetic. "What would you tell her, Tommy?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh, how pretty she is . . . I mean, how much I liked watchin' her. . . " Tommy's face turned pink. Mingo understood completely.

He turned to the Boones, "Rebecca -" he began.

Becky smiled, "Oh, you'd like to tell her how pretty she is too, wouldn't you, Mingo?"

Mingo blushed scarlet.

"We are expected at Chota tonight," he said, still blushing. "I will just allow Tommy to compliment Mademoiselle Rousseau on her performance, then we will join you for supper . . . "

Daniel patted Mingo on the shoulder, grinning. "Us old married folks understand you young fellers like to look at pretty girls. She's right pretty, ain't she, Becky? Not a patch on Miss Susan in Philadelphia, but even so . . . "

Mingo flushed even redder. Becky, who had heard the tale of Mingo's adventures in Philadelphia, began to laugh too.

"Daniel," Mingo threatened, "You promised me you wouldn't tell Rebecca!"

Daniel's wave was airy, as he collected his son and womenfolks. "You young fellers take your time," he called over his shoulder as the Boones departed for home. "We understand how sparkin' can go! We'll save some supper for you!"

"I'll be waitin' for you, Tommy," Jemima cooed sweetly. She waved and followed her parents and brother home

******************

The two half-Cherokee warriors stood surveying each other for a moment. Tommy was practically squirming with excitement, like a dog with two tails. Mingo shook his head and shrugged. Had he ever been that young and foolish?

"We'll go and find Mademoselle Rousseau's wagon, congratulate her quickly and join the Boones for supper," he said. Tommy nodded his agreement.

They poked around the wagons curiously, trying not to get into anyone's way. The circus performers were now acting as roughnecks, loading the circus's equipment into the wagons, hurrying to get packed and on the road by nightfall. Tommy was fascinated by everything he saw. He wanted to talk to the performers, pat the horses, stop and gawk at everything they encountered while they searched for the tiny aerialist.

Mingo was growing impatient. They had searched for several minutes without any success, when someone seized his arm roughly. In some surprise, he realized that the person who had taken his arm was John Bill Ricketts.

"Mr. Ricketts," Mingo began politely, "We wanted to congratulate Mademoiselle Rousseau on her amazing performance." Belatedly, he recalled that he ought to compliment Ricketts' riding too, regardless of his dislike for the fellow and opened his mouth to speak.

Ricketts, however, ignored Mingo. His attention was all on Tommy. "Did you chaps enjoy the circus?" he asked Tommy.

The boy nodded, and Ricketts continued, "My good fellow, I have never seen anyone as tall as you."

Tommy blushed proudly, "I been almost this tall since I was just a sprat. I shot up even more this summer whilst I been living with the Cherokees." he said shyly.

Mingo interrupted. "Yes, indeed. Perhaps you could introduce us to Mademoiselle Rousseau? Tommy has expressed an interest in meeting her." Tommy nodded, reddening.

Ricketts' eyes widened, Mingo could almost see wheels turning in the man's mind.

"Why, yes, certainly. What did you say your name was, my lad?" Ricketts persisted.

"Thomas Talltrees," the boy said, "Most folks just call me Tommy."

"Did you have an opportunity to try our circus food, Master Talltrees?" Ricketts asked. They shook their heads, and Ricketts continued, "You didn't try our marvelous lemonade?" The unctuous showman snapped his fingers. "I have had the most splendid idea!" he said, as if the idea had just popped into his head. "Why don't I take you chaps around to meet Mam'zelle Rousseau and let you taste our lemonade?"

Tommy nodded eagerly, but Mingo hung back. He was uncomfortable with the attention Ricketts was showing Tommy. He couldn't shake the prickling feeling that the man had an ulterior motive for his kindness to the boy.

"C'mon, Mingo!" Tommy urged, "Boy howdy! Mam'zelle and lemonade!"

Ricketts quickly led them to the one wagon they hadn't investigated, and knocked sharply upon the door. It opened immediately to reveal Mademoiselle Marie Victorine Rousseau. She had changed from her spangled costume into a simple dark dress with a lace fichu at the neck. Her hair had been released from its elaborate coiffure; she now wore her dark hair in simple braids. Her face freshly scrubbed, she looked as if she were not a day older than Jemima. As if she had just stepped out of a bandbox, Mingo thought, looking at her.

"Oui, Monsieur Ricketts?" she said in her contralto voice.

"Yes, Victorine, I would like you to make the acquaintance of Master Talltrees here," he indicated the grinning Tommy. As an afterthought, he indicated Mingo, "My dear fellow, I've quite forgotten your name."

Mingo flushed with embarrassment, "I am Mingo, Mademoiselle," he bowed politely. Her eyes widened as she took in the details of his hair, feathers, clothing, moccasins. She gave him a dazzling smile. Mingo's knees suddenly felt weak.

Marie Victorine turned her smile on Tommy. "You are Indiens, messieurs?" she asked sweetly.

Tommy seemed to be having trouble breathing, "Yes, ma'am!" he gasped.

If Mam'zelle had suggested they were Hottentots, Tommy would have agreed, Mingo thought, but he nodded too. "We are of the Cherokee, Mademoiselle," he began, but Ricketts cut in quickly.

"Ah, Victorine, I promised young Master Talltrees and his companion some of our famous lemonade," he said briskly, rubbing his hands together. "I shall just step over the the cook wagon and see if there is any left after our performance. Will you entertain our guests, my dear?"

Marie Victorine smiled and nodded. She gestured to two tiny cane chairs in her wagon and indicated that Tommy and Mingo should sit. Tommy looked at the chair and began to laugh. Mingo tried to swallow his laughter too. There was no way the cane chair would support Tommy, or even himself. His own head nearly touched the roof of the wagon, feathers bent. Even stooping, Tommy was bent almost double.

Marie Victorine realized her mistake, and began to laugh. "Perhaps we could sit on the ground outside?" She picked up a canvas floor-cover and spread it on the ground outside her wagon door. She gestured gracefully. Tommy flopped down immediately. Mingo remained standing.

Marie Victorine giggled behind her hand. "Monsieur Mingo," she said prettily, "Please sit down! You and Monsieur Talltrees are géants!" Mingo noted that in her French accent, Marie Victorine made being a giant seem like a desirable thing to be.

"It is just Mingo," he replied, smiling, "and 'Monsieur Talltrees' is Tommy. We Cherokee are simple people." He sat, as she had requested.

Ricketts came puffing up, bearing a tray with a pitcher and two glasses. Marie Victorine frowned. Ricketts caught her frown, and gave her a look that puzzled Mingo.

"Oh, you are wondering why there are only two glasses, Victorine," Ricketts smiled. "I do not have time to join you. I am quite busy overseeing the circus folk as we prepare for our next performance."

Marie Victorine gave them her bewitching smile, "And I," she said sweetly, "have tasted lemonade many times. It is not to my liking." She poured them both glasses of the lemonade.

"A votre santé," she said, handing them their glasses. Tommy took a sip, smiled, and drank it down quickly, barely tasting it.

Mingo tasted his and frowned. It had been years since he had tasted lemonade. It was not to his liking either, but he couldn't remember it tasting quite so bitter. Well, he considered, perhaps sugar was in short supply here, as in many other settlements. To be polite, he drank the glass.

"More, Tommee?" cooed Marie Victorine.

Tommy nodded eagerly, and Marie Victorine refilled his glass. In spite of his protests, she refilled Mingo's too. A true gentleman, Mingo drank the second glass. Tommy also accepted another glass. Mingo noticed that Tommy seemed to be swaying as he sat on the ground close to Marie Victorine. Suddenly, Tommy simply fell over backwards. Mingo's eyes rolled up in his head, and he slumped over too.

"Baptiste!" came Ricketts' shout. "Get some men and throw these two into a wagon!" he patted the little Frenchwoman's cheek. "Well done, my dear! You have earned your pay packet this week!"

"Monsieur!" Marie Victorine shrieked. "What have you done?"

"Calm yourself, Victorine," Ricketts said mildly. "I have merely increased our number of performers by two." He turned briefly and shouted, "Baptiste! Fetch some men!"

Baptiste arrived, clad in work clothes. "Monsieur Ricketts! What is this?" he indicated the unconscious Mingo and Tommy.

Several workers arrived and began to lift the Indians and carry them away.

"Load them into Victorine's wagon - she can go in with Madame La Beard," Ricketts ordered.

"You cannot kidnap these men, Monsieur! You cannot take my wagon!" Marie Victorine protested.

"Can't I? Gather your things, Victorine!"

Baptiste added his protests, "Monsieur - they were with Monsieur Boone and his family. They will surely be missed and searched for!"

"Hitch up Victorine's wagon as quickly as possible," Ricketts called to one of the stablers. "You know our direction - the rest of the caravan will follow as soon as all our gear is loaded. Take these two and move quickly - with luck, you'll be several miles away before Boone even misses them. Have any other wagons that are loaded move out now too! This trail is well traveled - it's unlikely Boone can tell circus wagons from any other kind of wagon."

"But Monsieur - !" Baptiste protested.

"I need not remind you just how indebted you and Mam'zelle Victorine are to me, I think?" Ricketts sneered. "You can drive La Beard's wagon for now. You can switch back to Victorine's wagon when the rest of the caravan catches up to La Beard and the Indians."

Baptiste fell silent. He bent and picked up a battered feather that had fallen from Mingo's hair. He regarded it for a moment and handed it to Marie Victorine. She stuffed it into her pocket without thinking.

"Fetch what you need for tonight, ma petite," he said to Marie Victorine quietly. "We are prisoners of Monsieur Ricketts as much as these two." 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Rebecca Boone was worried. By the time the Boones returned to their cabin, and she finished preparing the evening meal, by the time Israel and Jemima finished their evening chores, Mingo and Tommy still had not returned. Becky fed Israel first, then sent him to bed. She knew Jemima was sweet on Tommy, so she allowed her to wait up longer. Finally, Becky sent the girl to bed too.

Daniel seemed unconcerned as he ate his stew. "Mingo's a grown man, Becky. I know you fret for him, but he can take care of himself. Usually." Daniel amended his statement. "And Tommy's right handy with his fists, too. He has a way of keepin' people from gettin' close enough to take a poke at him." Daniel shook his head and grinned, remembering the one time that Mingo had scuffled with the boy giant. Tommy had simply held Mingo off with one hand while the frustrated Cherokee had never been able to land a blow. "The boy's Mingo's responsibility, not ours." he added.

Becky paced the cabin floor while Daniel drank a cup of coffee and nibbled on cookies left from the afternoon's circus performance. Becky was unable to settle long enough to eat anything. She kept returning to the cabin door and looking out in hopes of spotting Mingo or Tommy coming down the path. The pot of tea she brewed for herself remained untouched.

"I just don't understand it, Dan," she said for the twentieth time. "It's not like Mingo to say he'll do something and not do it. And missing supper!" she fretted, "I swear that man can smell my stew all the way to Chota! Have you ever known him to miss a meal?" She crossed to the door and opened it again. She snatched her shawl off its hook by the door and stepped out on to the porch. She shivered again suddenly. She knew, just knew, something was wrong.

"Mingo!" she called. "Tommy!" There was no response except for an owl hooting in a tree outside the door.

Daniel took his dulcimer, Sweet Talker, down from its shelf. He sat on the bench near the fire plucking the strings with a feather. He played a few notes, regarded his wife for a moment, and sang softly, "Oh, sparkin's a pleasure, and partin' is grief, but a false-hearted lover is worse than a thief . . ."

Becky gave him an angry glare. Daniel stopped playing and put the instrument away. "Becky."

His wife whirled on him, blue eyes flashing, "Daniel Boone, if you don't go and look for those two, I'll . . . I'll . . . I'll do something far-fetched!"

This was no idle threat, Daniel knew from past experience. He rolled his eyes at his wife, stepped quickly to the door, and drew on his buckskin coat and coonskin cap. He kissed Becky's cheek, "Reckon I'll take a walk up to Chota, see if they had reason to head there." He lifted Tick Licker to his shoulder. The door closed quietly as the big man left.

Becky plopped herself in the rocking chair, and sighed thankfully. She'd practically had to build a fire under the man, but she'd finally gotten him out the door and on the search. Her woman's intuition was seldom, if ever, wrong. She poured herself a cup of tea and sat sipping and praying.

***************

As the tall Kentuckian approached the Indian village of Chota, the moon was high and bright in the sky. Daniel glanced up at it and guessed the time must be past midnight. "All right, Becky," Daniel muttered to himself. "If they ain't here, I'm gonna begin to worry!" He paused outside the cluster of lodges and waited. He made the sound of a bird, waited, listened, and repeated the series of birdcalls. Fires burned outside a few lodges. One of the watching Indian warriors beckoned him forward into the village.

A small feminine figure flew out of one of the lodges and rushed toward him. A tiny woman, scarcely five feet tall, her braids reached nearly to her waist. Extremely long eyelashes framed large, intelligent blue eyes. It was Mingo's "cousin" Tekawitha McLeod, adopted daughter of the chief, Menewa, Mingo's maternal uncle.

She was obviously upset as she reached him, "Mr. Boone! Have you seen my cousin and Tommy Talltrees?" she asked.

"Ain't they here, Tekawitha? Becky 'n me expected 'em back to the cabin for supper, but they neither of 'em showed."

"No, Mr. Boone," answered Tekawitha gravely. "They did not return from the circus!"

"Why didn't you or any of your people go, Tekawitha? You know you were more than welcome. It was mighty entertainin'."

Tekawitha shook her head. "I would not have enjoyed being with the white settlers. My cousin and Tommy have white man's hearts. It was for them to go, not I."

Daniel knew Tekawitha's story. The girl had been abducted from a white family as an infant by the warring Tuscarora Indians. The Cherokee had killed the raiding Tuscarora party as they crossed Cherokee lands, and taken the baby, who had then been adopted as a daughter by Menewa. She had been kidnapped again as a young woman by a half-breed named Flathead Joseph who had sold the girl to the settlers of Boonesborough. A war had nearly arisen when Menewa had insisted the girl be returned to her adoptive Cherokee family and Boonesborough had refused. Daniel still felt shame when he remembered how Mingo, his blood brother, had nearly been forced to choose between his white brother, Daniel, and his Indian family. He still wondered if Mingo would have been able to kill him, or if he would have had to kill Mingo. The Cherokee warriors had been poised to attack Boonesborough, but Tekawitha had taken the matter out of everyone's hands. She declared that her heart was Indian, in spite of her white skin, and returned to the loving arms of her father, Menewa. Daniel had a fondness for Tekawitha; she was the daughter of an old flame of Daniel's, named Ruth Carter. If fate had declared otherwise, Tekawitha might have been Daniel's daughter. Jemima and Tekawitha had been firm friends while the girl had been in Boonesborough. Since both girls now had an eye for Tommy Talltrees, though, their friendship had turned into friendly rivalry.

Daniel felt the first pricklings on the back of his neck. He had hoped that Mingo and Tommy might simply have had a change of heart and returned directly to Chota, however unlikely it seemed. He shook his head ruefully. Becky was right, as usual. If he'd listened to her, he might have been searching six hours sooner.

He patted the girl's shoulder. "Tell your pa not to worry, and don't you fret neither. I'll find 'em both."

By the time Daniel got back to Boonesborough, it was just before first light. He stopped at his own cabin once more to see if there was any chance Mingo and Tommy had finally arrived. His exhausted wife was dozing in the rocking chair. Tears filled her eyes when Daniel told her the two had never arrived at Chota either. He took her in his arms and held her close. Daniel pressed a kiss on her hair while she wept.

"You know I won't stop searchin' til I find 'em," he promised. Becky nodded, and gave him a watery smile. She went to the kitchen area and began filling a haversack with provisions: coffee, beans, cornmeal, a little flour, sugar, salt, beef jerky. She wrapped the last of the molasses cookies in a clean towel and stuffed them into the bag. Mingo's favorite, now Tommy' s too. Her eyes swam with tears. Daniel kissed her quickly and left.

"Tell the young'uns not to worry," he called. "I'll bring 'em back soon's I can."

Then he was gone.

************

Daniel paced round and around the field where the circus had performed. There were dozens of tracks, animal, human, all shapes and sizes. He smiled grimly when he saw extremely large moccasin tracks. Many of the settlers of Boonesborough wore moccasins; nothing strange there, but these could only belong to Tommy. He hoped the long, slender moccasin tracks nearby belonged to Mingo. The moccasin tracks melted into an undecipherable mess. There were tracks everywhere, in varying sizes, meandering over the entire field. It was hard, but Daniel picked out Tommy's huge tracks here and there in the confusion of footprints. Something heavy had fallen here and been dragged a distance. The drag marks vanished suddenly amid wagon ruts. Whatever had been dragged had been lifted into the wagon and vanished. Could it have been Tommy and Mingo? The idea seemed ridiculous, but he had not found any of Tommy's tracks heading away from the clearing, whether towards his own cabin or Chota. Daniel doubted that the two had gone with the circus willingly. And why would they have gone anyway? Only time would tell, he thought as he hefted Tick Licker and set off in pursuit of John Bill Ricketts' circus.

He decided to pass through the settlement before he followed the wagons' trail. Perhaps Cincinnatus might know if anyone had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.

The windows were still dark, but Daniel pounded on the tavern door anyway.

"Hold yer horses, I'm comin', I'm comin'!" shouted Cincinnatus sleepily. He opened the door, blearily rubbing his eyes. His muslin nightgown revealed bare, spindly shanks.

"Dan'l," he said, in surprise, "What brings you here so consarned early in the mornin'? Becky run outta coffee beans?"

"Cincinnatus," Daniel stepped into the tavern, past the old man, "We ain't seen Mingo or Tommy since the circus yesterday afternoon. They was supposed to eat supper with me 'n Becky 'n the young'uns, but they never showed."

Cincinnatus scratched his chin, thinking, "Dan'l, I seen Mingo wanderin' around the wagons yestiddy afternoon while I was in a shoutin' match with one of them fool circus folk. But I thought I seen him sittin' on your blanket with you 'n Becky and all the young'uns. Couldn't miss seein' Tommy with you'uns."

Daniel nodded, "I think he just couldn't take anymore of Ricketts' big-head," he said. "But then he got an eyeful of that little French gal, and he came right back and set down again! After they was done performin', he and Tommy said they wanted to go and say howdy to Miss Marie. We never seen 'em after that."

Cincinnatus nodded sagely. "She were a right fetchin' little thing, all right. I could understand two healthy young fellers takin' an interest there! This older feller here," Cincinnatus indicated himself, grinning, "couldn't take his eyes off her neither!"

"What's this about a shoutin' match between you and the circus folk?" Daniel probed.

"Oh," Cincinnatus was still exasperated. "Feller come'n told me I couldn't sell my honey corn 'n candy at his circus. Well," Cincinnatus crossed his arms, tapping his foot. "I sent him off with a flea in his ear, I can tell you! Tole him it was a free country, and I'd sell my wares wherever 'n whenever I pleased!"

"Anything after that?" Daniel asked. He stepped outside the tavern; Cincinnatus followed him and stood shivering on the stoop.

Cincinnatus considered for a moment, "Nah, he sold his goods, 'n I sold mine. Twern't no other trouble," he snapped his fingers suddenly. "That Ricketts feller shouted at him, told him off. Stayed away from me after that."

"What'd this feller look like, the one you got into it with?"

Cincinnatus looked sheepish suddenly. "Tell you the truth, Dan'l, I ain't sure if it was a feller. He was tall like a feller, beard 'n all, dressed like a feller, with a gal's voice!"

Daniel grinned, despite his concern. "Just regular circus folks, I guess!"

He clapped Cincinnatus on the shoulder, "Best go skin into your britches, Cincinnatus - I see Widder Thompson peepin' out her window!"

As the Widow Thompson was Boonesborough's most renowned gossip, Cincinnatus gave an old-maidish shriek and darted back into his tavern.

Daniel laughed and called, "Reckon I'll keep lookin'!"

****************

It was only a matter of hours before Daniel caught up to Ricketts' caravan of circus wagons. Ricketts was out in front of the wagons leading the way. He was not riding Cornplanter today. Apparently the animal was used only for performances. Daniel stood in the shadows of the trees watching; he counted no more than twenty wagons. He cursed himself mentally for not noting the number of wagons the day before. They were followed by hostlers leading strings of horses. From the pace he was setting, Ricketts was in no great hurry to arrive at their next destination.

Daniel left the cover of the trees and strode to meet Ricketts on the trail.

Ricketts held up a lazy hand, and the wagons all rumbled to a halt.

"Mr. Boone, my dear fellow!" he greeted Daniel. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"You seen my friend Mingo or the Cherokee boy, Tommy Talltrees?" Daniel said, ignoring Ricketts' greeting.

"I remember your Indian companion," admitted Ricketts. "I know of no one named Tommy, however."

"You know Tommy," Daniel responded grimly. "You spent enough time starin' at him yesterday. He's the giant boy playin' with my son, Israel, between the acts of your show."

Ricketts slapped his forehead dramatically, "Yes, of course, Mr. Boone! I do remember him, though I cannot imagine how you could misplace a person of his size! I have not seen either fellow, I am afraid."

Daniel lifted Tick Licker higher in his arms. The gesture was not lost on John Bill Ricketts. "I don't reckon you'd mind if I searched your wagons, then?"

"Mr. Boone," Ricketts ground out, "You can have no reason to think that I would have carried off two Indians."

"Mr. Ricketts," Daniel retorted. "I figger you'd maybe like to add a giant boy to your collection of 'human oddities'. You've already got a dwarf, and I hear tell you've got a lady with a beard. Couldn't help noticin' you lack a giant. Might have thought this was your chance to get your hands on one."

"My performers are all paid workers," sniffed Ricketts. "I do not need to resort to kidnapping or chicanery! If I had stolen away the boy, what use could I have for your Indian, Boone?"

Daniel's voice was as cold as Ricketts'. "I reckon you'd know that Mingo'd defend Tommy with his own life. You wouldn't have got Tommy without takin' Mingo too."

Ricketts turned his horse and spoke to the driver of the first wagon, "You, Baptiste! Go and pass the word down the line that Mr. Boone wishes to examine every wagon in the caravan. No one is to forbid him anything."

The man, now dressed in regular clothing, Daniel recognized as the tightrope walker of the day before. Baptiste LeBrun seemed humbler somehow, now driving a circus wagon.

"Oui, Monsieur," the man gestured to Daniel, "Come, I will assist you in your search."

LeBrun followed Daniel as he searched every single wagon. Daniel searched for what seemed like hours under LeBrun's watchful eye. He found a wagon full of yapping dogs, another, larger and more lavishly furnished, carrying a sleeping woman and the child who had performed with Ricketts only yesterday. He found one wagon set up for food storage with large kettles, pots and cutlery. Another wagon held trunks of props and costumes. Daniel searched every trunk, every barrel, under every bunk. He even tapped the floors of the wagons looking for false bottoms. As Daniel searched, his instincts told him there was something he had missed.

The last wagon he searched was the first in the line, driven by LeBrun, and occupied by Mademoiselle Marie Victorine Rousseau.

Danielle searched through the closet full of costumes, under Mademoiselle Rousseau's troubled eyes. Under the wooden bunk, Daniel found a bedraggled turkey feather. He slipped it quickly into his pack. Marie Victorine's eyes widened, but she made no comment.

He smiled at the tiny dancer. "Whose wagon is this, Miss? Are you the only one livin' in here?"

"What business is it of yours, Monsieur Boone, who shares Mam'zelle Rousseau's wagon?" LeBrun sneered.

Daniel felt disgust. "All right, I've looked in every wagon. They ain't here."

LeBrun pushed himself away from the door, "Then you acknowledge that Monsieur Ricketts told you the truth?"

Daniel shook his head as he jumped down from the wagon, "I said they ain't here. That don't mean Ricketts is tellin' the truth." 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

As soon as the door shut behind the tall Kentuckian, Marie Victorine whirled on Jean-Paul Baptiste LeBrun.

"Where are they? What has Monsieur Ricketts done with them?" demanded MarieVictorine.

"They are safe," admitted LeBrun. "Where Monsieur Boone will not find them."

"Where?" pleaded Marie Victorine. "Are they well?"

LeBrun winked as he jumped down from the wagon, "You know Madame La Beard looks after them. We can only hope they are well."

**************

Mingo swam up through murky depths. Any attempt to move made him feel even more nauseated. He fought the urge to vomit. His entire body felt as if ants were crawling over it. He could not force his eyes to open; they seemed to have a mind of their own. His mouth was both sour and dry as dust. He felt a cup against his lips, but it was not water.

A husky female voice said, "Here, my handsome fellow, drink this. You'll feel better soon."

Mingo tried to push the cup away, "No. . ." He could not make his hands do his bidding. He had no control over his own body.

The owner of the voice lifted his head and dumped the contents of the cup into his mouth as Mingo spoke. Some went down his chin, but quite a bit poured down his throat. Bitter, vile tasting. The taste of lemon could not disguise the flavor of the liquid.

Mingo gagged, but the woman held his nose and he swallowed. He sank back down into the darkness.

Mingo did not know how long he remained in the nightmare. He only knew that each time he groped his way to consciousness, the hands held his nose and poured more of the vile tasting liquid down his throat. Afterwards, nausea overtook him and he vomited until darkness claimed him again.

He was not sure if he heard or imagined a male voice shouting angrily.

"What have you done, Martha? How much of that hellish concoction did you give him?"

The familiar husky voice replied in injured tones, "He's half again as big as this one, isn't he? I gave him more poppy tea!"

"He's just a large child, Martha! He has the constitution of a child!" the male voice responded angrily.

"I had no intention of hurting anyone! You wanted them unconscious long enough to get away from the settlement," the female voice snapped back. "You haven't had any trouble, have you? I haven't killed anyone yet with my poppy tea!"

"Not for lack of trying! You came close with the boy," retorted the male voice. "You overdosed him until he nearly choked on his own tongue! If LeBrun hadn't been bringing you food and seen him turning blue . . . !" The voice shook with anger. "Thank God, LeBrun has some sense! And how long has this one lain in his own filth?"

Mingo felt what seemed to be a toe touch his middle. His stomach, which had been quiescent, stirred and decided it was time to empty itself again. The dry heaves shaking him were agonizing. Mingo groaned, and the hands seized him again and began to pour poppy tea into him.

"Wait, Martha!" the male voice instructed. "It's been almost a week. Give them less of the tea today. Get Baptiste to help you clean them both up and keep them that way! The stench in here is disgusting. No wonder this one is sick! Talltrees needs to learn how to behave in a sideshow. And this one," the toe touched Mingo again, "Well, there must be something an Oxford-educated Indian can do to earn his keep!"

The female speaker's voice changed from soft and apologetic to sharp and sarcastic.  
"What makes you think you have the right to kidnap two people from their homes and families and hold them for your own purposes? No one looking at this young man would believe he is a giant - only above average tall. And this one" she gestured to Mingo, "an ordinary, commonplace Oxford-educated savage?"

Ricketts laughed, "Your own position, 'Madame La Beard', is none too certain. Your sentiments do you much credit, my dear, but your own circumstances here surely do not allow you to dictate my behavior to me. I need only speak a few words into the ear of the constabulary here in one of the primitive burghs these Colonials so proudly call towns, and you will find yourself in a precarious situation. Your freakish appearance is against you - who would believe a merry-Andrew rather than the respectable proprietor of a traveling Bartholomew Fair? I believe the term you ladies use is 'Mind your own beeswax.'"

The female voice seemed to weaken, but rallied for one brave comment. "Yes, Mr. Ricketts. But I hope I shall have occasion to see you rue the day you decided to kidnap these men."

***************************

Daniel dragged himself back to Boonesborough late that night. He had followed the circus caravan the miles they had traveled that day, but had never seen anything to indicate that Mingo and Tommy were with Ricketts and his performers. During stops at midday and the evening, he had seen fires built, food cooked, and the circus folks going about their normal non-performing day activities. The tall Kentuckian felt more tired than the day's exertions warranted. In his gut, he knew that Ricketts was responsible for his Cherokee friends' disappearance. The bedraggled turkey feather in his bandoleer confirmed his suspicions.

"Becky," Daniel sighed, "I just know in my heart that Ricketts is responsible for Mingo and Tommy goin' missin'. I searched every blessed wagon in that caravan, and I found this." He handed the pitiful feather to his wife, who held it in her hands.

"It's Mingo's," confirmed Becky. "I'd recognize Mingo's feathers anywhere." Jemima and Israel nodded too.

"It's a turkey feather," Daniel laughed, "How in tarnation can you tell it's Mingo's? I'm sure even circus folks eat turkey now 'n then!"

Israel was shaking his head, "Criminently, Pa, some things you just gotta believe!" Becky and Jemima nodded their heads, agreeing with Israel's six-year-old wisdom.

"I put enough feathers in his hair last winter," Jemima said firmly, "There's something about feathers that belong to Mingo. I just know, that's all, Pa." Israel and Becky were nodding again.

"I know 'zackly what 'Mima means!" Israel burst out. Becky and Jemima looked at each other and smiled.

Daniel's heart felt lighter somehow. "Well, far be it from me to doubt the wisdom of women and young'uns! Reckon I'll just have to keep lookin'!"

************

Daniel called a meeting in Cincinnatus' tavern the next day. All men in Boonesborough and its surroundings were asked to attend. At least twenty men showed up. Cincinnatus was kept busy passing out free ale to the volunteers.

Daniel commented on the old tavern keeper's uncharacteristic generosity, "It ain't like you to hand out anything for free, Cincinnatus!"

Cincinnatus scowled, "Dan'l, don't you be plaguin' me with your foolishness! Reckon you know by now that I got a soft spot for that Cher-O-Kee of yours!"

"Reckon I've got a soft spot for him myself," Daniel said, smiling. "And Tommy has a way of growin' on you too!"

"That boy's just got a way of growin'!" Cincinnatus said, and laughed. He put his hand up to his mouth and whispered, "'Sides, it ain't free ale. I still got some of Mingo's credit from the last trappin' season!"

Daniel patted the old man on the back and raised his voice over the noise in the tavern.

"Let's call this here meetin' to attention!" He looked around the room, making eye contact with every man present.

"You all know that Mingo and Tommy ain't been seen nor heard from since the day the circus came to Boonesborough," Daniel said soberly. "I followed the circus for more than thirty miles, and watched 'em. I didn't see hide nor hair of either of 'em. I searched every wagon myself. I found one lone turkey feather that my wife and young'uns swear is Mingo's. Even though they weren't with Ricketts and his people, it don't mean that them circus people ain't liable for 'em goin' missin'. They've likely got 'em stashed somewheres."

Almost every man's head was nodding as Daniel held forth. He continued, "I'd like to ask each one of you to help me search every cabin or barn, or cave that you all know of for thirty miles 'round the fort. You fellers know Kaintuck like the back of your own hand! Search for 'em in pairs. I feel that if Mingo could have got Tommy and himself back, he'd have done it by now. That probably means one of 'em's sick or hurt. If you find 'em, have one feller stay with 'em, and send his partner back for help. Cincinnatus'll be here at the tavern directin' and keepin' a tally on where everyone is searchin' and the places you'll all have covered."

Daniel surveyed the crowd and couldn't help noticing that most of the men present were the same ones who had clamored to put a rope around Mingo's neck and hang him less than a year before. The men picked up their rifles, conversing in low tones among themselves.

Daniel had one last thing to say,"You all know that Mingo's as good a man, as honest a man, and as true a friend, as anyone here." The men nodded their agreement. Daniel continued, "I reckon Tommy's shown that he's got what it takes to be as good a man as Mingo. Let's go."

**************

The next time Mingo awoke, he thought he felt marginally better. His lips twitched in a weak smile as he thought of Rebecca Boone. He wished she were there to tell him if he felt better or not. He still felt horribly itchy, and occasionally was overcome by an attack of dry heaves. He felt too tired to move, as if he could sleep for a week. His nostrils detected a foul odor, and he almost retched again. Please, Creator, he silently begged, let the source of the disgusting aroma not be himself! The woman apparently heard him moving, and came at once with another dose of the loathsome poppy tea. Soon, the odor no longer troubled him.

When Mingo woke again, it was to jolting, swaying movement. He knew at once that he was lying on the floor of a wagon, wrapped in blankets. He lifted his head, gazed around, and sighed with relief. Tommy was lying next to him, deeply asleep. He considered his situation. Thank the Creator, the disgusting odor had gone. He sat up in the blankets and looked around. He realized at once that, although the odor was gone, his clothing had gone with it. The fastidious Cherokee wrinkled his nose and sniffed cautiously. Though not as fresh and clean as he preferred to be, he would survive until he could find some water and, hopefully, soap. He touched his pounding head. His feathers and braids were missing, but his hair was neatly combed. He reached out a bare arm and touched Tommy's shoulder. The boy giant gave a snore, and did not move. His breathing was slow and even, his face flushed slightly. Perhaps he had not dreamed the conversation he had heard. He lifted the blanket to peep underneath. It was as he suspected: he was naked, exactly as nature had fashioned him. He dropped the blanket in dismay, and surveyed his surroundings. The wagon had been planned as a traveling home. Although he and Tommy were lying on the wagon's floor, the little caravan had a good-sized bunk. There were flat-topped trunks, and a couple of barrels. Idly, Mingo wondered whose caravan it was they occupied.

He still felt weak. He wondered how long it had been since they had been abducted, and if their captors had sloshed anything besides poppy tea down their throats. His stomach growled loudly at the thought of food. Irresistibly, Mingo smiled. Yes, he was feeling better. He wrapped one of the blankets about him and tried to stand. No, the jolting of the wagon and weakness were affecting his balance. Still, he could crawl to the trunks and search inside for some kind, any kind of clothing to cover himself and Tommy. It would be difficult to escape wrapped only in dirty blankets.

He gripped the blanket firmly and managed to maneuver himself to his knees. Tommy gave another snore as Mingo crawled over his legs, heading for the trunks. He lifted the lid of the first trunk, rummaged through its contents, and sank back to the floor of the wagon in disappointment. The trunk was filled to overflowing with feminine garments. Tiny garments, embellished with embroidery and lace. He lowered the lid quietly, and lifted the second trunk's lid, praying all the while. His prayer went unanswered. This trunk too contained feminine fripperies. Suddenly Mingo heard incomprehensible shouts. He listened intently, but heard no language that he recognized. The wagon jolted to a stop, and Mingo dove to the floor next to Tommy, feigning sleep.

Suddenly, the door opened. Sunlight poured through into the wagon. A charming feminine voice trilled, "Bonjour, Monsieur Mingo! You are awake, non?"

Marie Victorine Rousseau stepped up into the wagon, carrying a tray. Jean-Paul Baptiste LeBrun was right behind her carrying a bucket of steaming water and a pile of clothing. Another prayer went unanswered. The earth did not open and swallow him. Mingo blushed scarlet from his toenails to the roots of his hair.

At the aroma of the toasted bread and broth Marie Victorine carried, his stomach growled loudly. His blushing face betrayed him too. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, hoping that Mademoiselle Rousseau would not know of his state of undress. Marie Victorine read his thoughts accurately and gave him a mischievous grin.

"Non, non, mon ami! Your vertu is quite safe! Madame La Beard and Baptiste have cared for you tenderly during your illness. This is my wagon, mais oui, but I stay with Madame. My little things are here only, not I! You are hungry, mon cher?"

His stomach growled again, giving the lie to anything he might say, so Mingo nodded, "Oui. I am very hungry, Mademoiselle."

"'Victorine', sil vous plait," she said prettily and planted her derriere on an equally tiny chair. "Or 'Mam'zelle', if you must!"

She poured a cup of broth and handed it to him. "Slowly, mon cher!" she cautioned. "You have not eaten in many days. Small sips only!"

Mingo nodded, accepted the cup, and said, "Thank you, Mademoiselle."

LeBrun stood watching him as he sipped the broth, saying nothing. Marie Victorine handed Mingo a slice of bread.

"Slowly, Monsieur Mingo!"

He took a small bite and chewed slowly. His traitorous stomach roiled. For one horrible moment, Mingo feared he would disgrace himself in front of Marie Victorine and the contemptuous LeBrun. He took a few deep breaths until his stomach stopped churning. The broth was hot, well-seasoned, delicious. He could not remember a time when he had been hungrier, except perhaps for the Starving Winter of his Cherokee childhood when many of his mother's people had perished.

He ate very slowly. Marie Victorine poured another cup of broth, handed him another slice of bread. She sat silently, watching.

LeBrun spoke at last. "Here is clothing for you, Indien. You feel up to putting it on by yourself?" Mingo nodded, still chewing.

LeBrun held up the clothing. A buckskin breechcloth. His own moccasins, made by Tekawitha's hands. Nothing else. His face began to flame again.

Mingo said, "NO."

"Non, Monsieur?" Lebrun inquired. "You cannot? You need assistance?"

"NO," answered Mingo. "I will not." His dark eyes flashed angrily. "I will not walk around half-clothed. Bring me my own things."

There was silence in the little wagon. Marie Victorine collected his cup and plate and stacked them neatly on her tray. LeBrun stood holding the pile of clothing.

"You object to these? Is this not how Indiens dress? This is what Monsieur Ricketts has ordered for you," LeBrun said mockingly. "I understand he plans for you to earn your keep."

"I am sure Ricketts plans to use Tommy in his sideshow of freaks. What need does he have of me?" asked Mingo.

"It is for Monsieur Ricketts to decide, Indien." LeBrun responded.

Marie Victorine smiled at Mingo coaxingly, "Will you not wear these, Monsieur Mingo? Your own things were beyond cleansing. They have been discarded."

Mingo looked as dignified as possible, sitting on the floor clutching a blanket to himself. "Then bring me white man's clothing.

"There is none to spare, Indien," said LeBrun. He piled the clothing on the empty bunk. "Come, Victorine. Let us allow Monsieur Mingo time to think."

Marie Victorine gave him a tiny wink. "Au revoir, chéri. Someone will look in on you presently."

Mingo pulled the blankets tighter. Marie Victorine climbed down daintily, balancing the tray. LeBrun jumped out and slammed the wagon door. Mingo heard the lock click. LeBrun had left the bucket of hot water. Mingo got to his knees and began to sluice water over himself. He had seen towels in one of the cupboards over the bunk and helped himself to one. Blessedly he found a sliver of soap, not too daintily scented. He lathered and scrubbed himself while he considered his situation. Stomach full for the first time in who knew how many days, feeling clean again, he wrapped the blanket back around himself and sat down next to Tommy. The boy was snoring gently. Mingo could not be sure if the boy was sleeping naturally or still under the effects of the poppy tea. Time would tell.

He heard garbled shouts again. The wagon jerked and began to move forward. He still felt weak and exhausted. The rhythmic rocking of the wagon as it moved was hypnotizing. His eyelids began to droop. He settled himself on the floor next to Tommy and slept. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The wagons jerked to a stop some hours later. The interior of the wagon was almost completely in darkness. Mingo rubbed his eyes and sat up again. He guessed the circus must be planning to make camp for the night. He could hear shouting and laughing as the circus settled itself. Orders were shouted, the jingling of the horses' harness as they were unhitched and cared for could also be heard. He settled his back comfortably against the wall and waited.

He was not disappointed. Within the hour, the wagon's little door opened and John Bill Ricketts climbed into the wagon. He was carrying a lantern which he placed on the small table bolted to the floor, and a deerskin bundle under one arm. He turned to take the tray offered byMarie Victorine, who entered right behind him. He placed the tray on the table and turned to Mingo.

"Indian," Ricketts began, without preamble. "It is my understanding that you object to the clothing which I have graciously provided for you."

Mingo inclined his head, "My name is 'Mingo'. Your understanding is correct, Mr. Ricketts. I am assuming that you intend Tommy for your sideshow. What plan do you have for me? You have almost killed Tommy in your ridiculous attempt at kidnapping. How do you expect to carry off this nefarious idea?"

Ricketts gestured to Marie Victorine, who had remained silent. She stepped to the table and began to pour coffee into a cup. Ricketts sat down on the wagon's only sturdy chair and began to sip the coffee. Mingo's mouth began to water at the smell of the coffee.

Ricketts finished the cup, and extended it to Marie Victorine for refilling, before he began to speak. "You remember, Indian, do you not, my plans to perform in various settlements and towns on our way to New York? We travel slowly, because of the weight of the wagons and the inferior quality of what you Colonials call 'roads'. While you have been, 'incapacitated' shall we say, we have stopped at least three times and put on our performances." He smiled then, a wide crocodilian smile, "Our show was extremely well received each time. I put this down to the fact that we are demonstrating our talents to ignorant backwoodsmen and bumpkins, but still, applause is always gratifying!"

Mingo found himself as before, growing tired of Ricketts' overweening conceit, "Get on with it, Ricketts - what are your plans for the boy and me?"

"The boy, as you surmised, will be billed as 'Tall Trees, the Amerindian Gargantua!' - you, I suppose, can always earn your keep in the raree show. I imagine these colonial fillies would offer up their shillings and pence willingly for a glimpse of a half-clad Indian chieftain! Martha has assured me that you are what she referred to as an 'eyeful'! I will have an Indian in my sideshow!""

The image Ricketts conjured up was revolting to Mingo. "And if I refuse?"

Ricketts laughed loudly, "If you refuse, you will be sent to the slave market in New York, where you will be sold to the highest bidder. I understand there is quite a market for Indian slaves in the West Indies! It will take us at least four more weeks to reach New York, possibly longer. I shall have Martha - Madame La Beard, as Victorine and Baptiste refer to her - undertake to educate Tommy in his duties as a sideshow personage. You, Indian, shall remain locked in this wagon until you decide to cooperate, or until we reach the slave markets of New York!" He gave Mingo a supercilious smile, "The choice shall be yours, my dear fellow!" Ricketts rose and prepared to leave the little wagon.

Mingo growled back, "You will have to kill me first!"

"Hadn't thought of that," Ricketts shrugged. He stood and tossed the bundle on the bed. "But if you so choose. . . " His voice trailed away as he climbed down and was gone.

****************

Marie Victorine did not leave. She poured out another cup of coffee. While her back was turned, Mingo took the opportunity to rise and seat himself on the bunk.

Marie Victorine spoke without turning around, "Do you take sugar in your coffee, mon ami?"

"Have you added anything to it?" Mingo asked angrily.

"Non, non," Marie Victorine did not mistake his meaning. "That was the doing of Monsieur Ricketts. I knew nothing of it until the deed was done! "

Mingo shook his head, "I wish I believed you."

"It is the truth, Monsieur Mingo. I swear it!" Marie Victorine said quietly. "Baptiste and I, Madame La Beard, we are all pawns of Monsieur Ricketts. We are désespérée. He has power over all of us!"

"Power! What 'power' do you refer to, Mademoiselle?" Mingo laughed cynically.

"Baptiste and I are from La Nouvelle-Orléans, not France," she replied. "Baptiste is a wanted man. I do not know what he holds over the head of Madame La Beard, or the others."

Mingo shook his head again. "How can he think that he will be allowed to hold Tommy against his will? Does he not know that we will be missed in my village and in Boonesborough?"

Marie Victorine gave a Gallic shrug that spoke volumes. "Will you take coffee, Monsieur Mingo? You have watched Monsieur Ricketts drink it - there is nothing in it."

Mingo held out his hand for the cup. Marie Victorine said, "You shall have more broth and toast tonight - tomorrow, if you will dress yourself as Monsieur Ricketts has requested, you will be allowed out of the wagon for some fresh air." She smiled at him coaxingly, "You will do as Monsieur Ricketts asks, oui?"

Mingo gave her one of his own dimpled smiles, "I will do as Ricketts asks, non."

**************

Marie Victorine had apparently been sent to work her feminine wiles on Mingo. When her charms failed to achieve what Ricketts wanted, Madame La Beard returned with the evening meal. Mingo was dozing on the bunk when the wagon door banged open. He sat up immediately, watching the door.

He did not recognize the unfamiliar person, clad in an odd mixture of deerskin frontier clothing and a suit coat that would not have seemed out of place in one of the cities, who entered the wagon carrying a tray of food. Men's clothing. The person had hair almost as long as Mingo's own, and curling profusely. A flowing beard curled out over the front of the suitcoat. The person set the tray down the little table before turning around and speaking.

The tones were feminine and low. "Good evening, Mingo. I trust you are feeling better? How is the boy?"

At the sound of the voice, Mingo felt his jaw drop. It was the feminine voice of his nightmares. Madame La Beard, literally, was a bearded lady. He was shocked speechless. He recognized her, of course, though he had not known her to be a woman. Madame La Beard was the candy butcher he had seen arguing with Cincinnatus on the day of the performance and their kidnapping.

"Cat got your tongue?" Her coy tones were repugnant to Mingo, coming as they did from such a masculine appearance. "Needn't be shy with me, my dear," she smiled, "I've been looking after both of you since your unfortunate illness." She saw Mingo's blush and added more kindly, "No, no, Baptiste has looked after your physical comfort – I have only attended to your medical needs."

She stepped into the wagon, and crossed to Tommy. She knelt beside the slumbering boy, and felt his forehead, lifted one eyelid and dropped it. Tommy did not even twitch at the invasion of his person. Madame La Beard lifted the blanket. Mingo blushed furiously, but was relieved to see that, unlike himself, the boy was completely clothed. She put a gentle hand on Tommy's chest, apparently counting his respirations, and nodded, satisfied.

"I was a bit heavy-handed with the poppy tea. He had a different reaction than you did . It was not my intention to make either of you so violently ill. The boy has simply been very sleepy. At one time, he decided to stop breathing. Thank heavens, Baptiste was here. Mr. Ricketts was quite angry. Your friend is a healthy young fellow. He should begin to rouse soon. I will be keeping a close eye on you to make sure that you are recovering well."

She rose to her feet and gestured toward the tray, "I have brought more broth and bread. Are you hungry?"

Mingo shook his head firmly. He would take nothing further from Madame La Beard's hands.

Madame La Beard smiled, "We are spending the night here. You might change your mind," she said mildly. "I will leave the tray on the table just in case you do." She moved to the door and stepped down. "Bonne nuit, my dear," she said, with an airy wave of her hand. He heard the door's lock click, as he sank back on the bunk.

******************

The searchers combed the miles around Boonesborough for days before they began to drift back to Cincinnatus' tavern in groups and pairs. The search had been fruitless. Not a trace of either Mingo or Tommy had been found. Cincinnatus had coordinated the searchers' efforts, marking off the areas searched on a slate mounted on the wall behind the bar.

"What'll we do now, Dan'l?" said Cincinnatus, as he marked off the last of the search results. He wiped his hands on his apron.

Daniel sat at the table closest to the bar. His head was in his hands. "I don't rightly know, Cincinnatus," his voice was weary. An untouched mug of ale stood on the table before him.

Daniel had been actively searching too. Tekawitha sent word back from Chota each day that her cousin and Tommy Talltrees had not returned there either.

The searchers watched Daniel's face. None of them wanted to be the first to suggest abandoning the hunt, but they had fields to tend, and families to provide for. They had all given several days of their time to the search, but considered that they had done their fair share.

"I don't know yet what I'll do. I ain't slept in my own bed in more'n a week. I 'preciate all of your help. Reckon I'll get a night's sleep and start over again in the mornin'."

"Where'll you start searchin'?" pressed Cincinnatus.

Daniel stood up slowly, "I'm certain that even if Ricketts ain't responsible for their disappearin', he surely knows where they're at." He drained the mug of ale in one gulp, and shouldered Tick Licker.

"He wouldn't tell you the last time, Dan'l," Cincinnatus reminded him.

"This time he will," Daniel said grimly.

*************

Daniel was surprised to find his wife and children walking up the path toward the settlement and Cincinnatus' tavern. They had grown weary of waiting and were hoping for some good news. Daniel hated to disappoint them. Becky and the children were somber when they heard the search was unsuccessful.

"No one's seen hide nor hair of 'em, Becky, young'uns," he said. Only Becky heard the sadness in her husband's voice.

Becky smiled bravely, "You'll find them, Dan. I know you will." Her voice changed to brisk tones, "Let's get back to the cabin. It's a turkey tonight. 'Mima shot it!"

"'Mima, you're turnin' into quite the little hunter, ain't you?" Daniel smiled at her proudly. "You're doin' me proud, child!" Jemima gave him a wide smile.

Not to be outdone, Israel jumped and clung to his father. "We saved the feathers for Mingo. You said Mingo's got more lives than a cat, Pa," Israel reminded Daniel. "Him and Tommy are all right, just waiting for someone to find 'em."

Jemima's arms circled his neck from behind, "And that someone is you, Pa," she planted a kiss on his ear.

Daniel sat in the rocking chair while Jemima and Becky bustled around setting the table for supper, carrying food to the table.

"Come and eat before I throw it to the hogs!" Becky said with a smile. "If we had any hogs!"

Becky took his arm and led him to the table. Daniel sat down in his accustomed place. His wife and children took their places.

Daniel folded his hands for grace, "Our Heavenly Father," he began, but the usual words of thanks just didn't come. "Help me find them soon."

*******************

Though his stomach protested, Mingo refused the food that Madame La Beard brought and left. He knew it was ridiculous, that any food they were given could easily be tampered with, but after days of the bearded woman's care, he could not bring himself to eat anything her hands had been near.

In the early hours of the morning, Tommy stirred and woke. Mingo gave an audible sigh of relief as the giant boy sat up, yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

"What in tarnation happened to me?" were the boy's first words. Mingo grinned at hearing Daniel Boone's favorite expression come out of Tommy's mouth.

"We had a little too much lemonade," Mingo responded drily.

Tommy crawled to his knees - it would have been impossible for him to stand erect in the little cabin, and he knew better than to even try. Mingo wondered why Tommy had been allowed to keep his own clothing. Though stained and crumpled, he had every stitch. Tommy was equally surprised to see his Cherokee friend clad only in blankets.

He gestured toward Mingo's blankets. Mingo shrugged.

Tommy spied the leftover food on the table and crawled toward it, "Ain't you hungry, Mingo?"

"Not enough for food from Madame La Beard," Mingo responded with a shudder. "She has been pouring poppy tea into both of us for almost a week now. I couldn't bring myself to eat anything she has handled, but if you feel hungry enough," his mouth quirked into a wide smile, as he added, "and brave enough, by all means, feel free!"

That was all the invitation Tommy needed. He poured cold broth into a cup and drank thirstily. "Tastes fine to me, Mingo," he said between slurps. His strong young teeth bit hungrily into the stale toast. "I'm hungry enough to eat straw, I reckon."

Mingo's smile was rueful, "I know how hungry you are - I was too - but if Madame has had anything to do with that broth, you may well wish you had eaten straw!"

While Tommy ate, Mingo investigated the pile of clothing LeBrun had brought and left. His moccasins he put aside. He would at least have his own footwear. The breechcloth he did not even touch. He had never liked wearing a breechcloth and did not intend to start now, being paraded half-naked in front of leering, paying settlers. Though the Cherokee of Chota wore breechclouts when warring with other tribes, and during sports, Mingo was still enough of an Englishman to prefer more modest attire. Ricketts had added a pair of leggings, as an inducement, the Cherokee suspected. There was a pair of linsey-woolsey trousers, and a shirt similar to the clothing he himself usually wore. The only problem was that they were intended to fit a tall, thin young man more than 7 feet tall. He turned to Tommy, keeping a firm grip on the blanket wrapped around his middle.

"Tommy, these are plainly meant for you," Mingo said grinning, pointing to the shirt and trousers, "but I feel my need is greater than yours, at the present time."

He gestured at the breechcloth and leggings, and Tommy laughed, knowing Mingo's distaste for them.

Tommy kept busy inhaling the stale bread and broth, but he nodded, "If'n you think you kin keep 'em up and on, you go right ahead!"

Tommy's words were music to Mingo's ears. In seconds, he had thrown off the blankets and climbed into the over-sized, clean clothing intended for Tommy. The boy's shout of laughter told Mingo how ridiculous he must look. The trousers were almost right in the waist, but even pulled up nearly to his armpits, the legs puddled around his feet. The contortions Mingo went through trying to hold the trousers up while pulling the shirt over his head had Tommy screaming with laughter, pounding his fists on the floor. Once on, the sleeves of the deerskin shirt extended well below his fingertips, and Mingo was a tall man. Undeterred, he began rolling up the ends of the trouser legs, while Tommy snickered. Mingo paid him no attention, and began rolling up the sleeves as well. The extra inches out of the way, he began rummaging through Mademoiselle Rousseau's trunks, pulling out silken undergarments and female clothing and stacking it neatly on the floor, clutching the trousers all the while.

"What're you lookin' for?" Tommy chortled. "Something that's more your size?"

"Scissors would be helpful," Mingo retorted, "or perhaps a length of ribbon to tie up my bonny black hair!"

He did indeed find several lengths of ribbon, though no scissors. He pirouetted in front of Tommy, one hand holding the ribbons before him, the other clutching the waist of the trousers. "Which do you think best suits my ridiculous accoutrements? Pink? Blue?"

"Red," said Tommy decisively, snickering.

"Red it is," Mingo agreed cheerfully. He quickly braided his hair and tied the ends off with the red satin ribbon. Having no scissors, he simply bit the ribbon in two with his sharp teeth. Another length went around his waist to hold up the overlong trousers. He put his hands on his hips and pirouetted for Tommy, joining in the boy's laughter.

Mingo marveled at the recuperative powers of the very young. He still felt weak and shaky - Tommy had simply sat up from his long sleep, showing no ill effects whatsoever. Inwardly, Mingo felt huge relief. Suddenly it began to seem possible that they might be able to escape together after all.

"You look like a clown!" Tommy cackled, practically rolling on the floor in laughter.

He and Tommy were both preoccupied and did not notice the wagon door opening. John Bill Ricketts stood in the doorway quietly watching.

"You are absolutely right, boy," came Ricketts' voice. Mingo and Tommy froze where they were. Tommy sat up, looking apprehensive. Mingo stood quietly, unafraid, his chin lifted slightly in defiance.

"Master Talltrees, you will begin with Martha to learn how to behave in the sideshow. It will be easy enough work, as long as you do as you are told." Tommy shot a look at Mingo, who nodded assurance to the boy giant, and Tommy relaxed.

"What about Mingo?" Tommy asked.

Ricketts stood with his hand on his hips, saying nothing. Suddenly Marie Victorine stepped up into the wagon, carrying a tray of food. When she caught sight of Mingo, she began to laugh, first daintily, then in whoops of laughter.

"Oh, Monsieur Mingo!" she whooped, "It is too funny! You look just like a clown!"

"A clown, indeed," Ricketts said slowly, "Victorine, my dear, you may have just saved both the Indian and myself a great deal of unpleasantness. Indian, you and your friend Talltrees may have another day to recuperate, then both of you will begin your education, he as a sideshow attraction, you as a clown!" 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Before the sun was fully up in the sky, the Boones were awakened by a pounding on the cabin door.

"Dan'l! Dan'l! Come quick! Wake up in there!" The frantic voice belonged to Cincinnatus.

Daniel hurried to the door in his nightshirt, "Hush, Cincinnatus! You'll have the young'uns and Becky woken up!"

Cincinnatus was blowing like a winded horse. He bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath and hold the stitch in his side at one time.

"I'm sorry, Dan'l, I was so flustrated, I couldn't think clear!" the old man apologized, wheezing.

"Come on in, while I skin into my clothes," Daniel took the tavern keeper's arm and led him to a chair. He handed him a dipperful of water, which Cincinnatus accepted gratefully.

"Tell me 'bout it while I dress," Daniel directed, heading for the alcove he shared with Becky. He could hear his wife dressing quickly behind the curtain.

"Good morning, Cincinnatus," she called. "I'll start a pot of coffee for us!" Daniel often marveled at just how quickly Becky could don the multiple layers of clothing required by a woman - petticoats, chemise, dress, apron, stockings, shoes. She often managed to dress more quickly than he could himself.

She came out from behind the curtains, rubbing her hands together briskly, and began to stoke up the fire. She took coffee and dumped it into a pot, added water, and set it in the coals.

"What's amiss, Cincinnatus?" she asked with some concern. The wiry old tavern keeper was still winded, trying to catch his breath.

"What is it, Ma?" Jemima called down from the loft. Israel came scampering down the ladder in his nightshirt, as Daniel emerged from the sleeping alcove.

"Now that we're all woke up, Cincinnatus," Daniel said, "You might as well tell us all!"

"Dan'l," puffed Cincinnatus, "I ain't never seen the like! You ain't never seen the like! There ain't never been such a thing around these here parts!"

"What kind of thing?" Daniel questioned, while Becky poured out cups of coffee for Cincinnatus and Daniel.

"I don't rightly know!" Cincinnatus cried, in some confusion. "I ain't never seen one before!"

"Hold on now," Daniel advised. "You ain't never seen the like, I gather. What do you reckon you seen?"

"Well, now," Cincinnatus scratched his chin whiskers. "I reckon it could be an animal, but it ain't no kind of animal . . ."

"You ever seen," Daniel interrupted. "What's it look like?"

"Huge, it were, Daniel!" the old man gestured with his arms to indicate the animal's size. "Looked like it were made of leather already been tanned!"

"Was it by itself, or did someone come with it?" Daniel said, smiling suddenly.

"Yes, indeed!" Cincinnatus said, "Sounds like a Redcoat, but he ain't wearin' a red coat! Came ridin' up on it like it was the biggest horse you ever seen!"

Daniel began to laugh.

"Pa, you reckon you know what it is?" Israel was hopping up and down in excitement.

"Young'uns, get yourselves into your clothes, and hurry. Cincinnatus is right - you ain't never seen the like of this before, if it's what I think it might be!"

Jemima and Israel were dressed and ready in a matter of minutes. Daniel finished pulling his own moccasins on, Becky removed her apron, and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. The Boones and Cincinnatus hurried back up the path to Boonesborough.

Halfway there, a trumpeting sound could be heard. Becky and the children jumped and looked around nervously.

Cincinnatus jumped too, "That's it, Daniel," the old man began wringing his hands. "That's it bellerin'!"

Daniel began to laugh and increased his speed until he was running. Becky and Jemima maintained a more dignified pace, but Israel and Cincinnatus sprinted right along with him.

As they entered the fort, Israel blurted out, "Criminently!" The little boy came to a complete standstill, mouth hanging open.

"You said a mouthful, boy," Cincinnatus nodded. "That's it, Daniel!"

"Mr. Boone," Philip Astley came sliding down from Old Bet. "Hit's good to see you, my good fellow! H'im looking for my friend, Kerr Murray - H'i should say, Mingo!"

"You and everyone else in Boonesborough!" Daniel extended his hand to Astley. "How are you 'n Bet keepin'?"

"Pa, you know this man?" Israel shouted. "What kind of critter is this?" Israel was below the animal looking up at its nether parts. Becky gave a shriek of panic.

Daniel scooped his son up before he could run under the elephant's feet. He held Israel close until Old Bet had an opportunity to run her trunk over the little boy, sniffing him gently, tasting his hair, and touching his clothing.

"This here critter," Daniel said, grinning, "is an elephant."

Israel squirmed out of his father's arms and began to crawl underneath the elephant again. "Is this a him elephant or a her elephant?"

Daniel chuckled as he pulled Israel out again. "This here is a lady elephant. Her name is Old Bet. This feller here is a friend of Mingo's. His name is Philip Astley, and he runs a circus too!"

"Oh lordy, it never rains but it pours," muttered Cincinnatus, shaking his head.

"Mr. Boone," Astley finally had a chance to get a word in edgewise, "Old Bet and H'i are fine. What do you mean 'everyone in Boonesborough' h'is looking for Mingo? What 's 'appened?"

"About two weeks ago, we had a visit from a feller named John Bill Ricketts." Daniel began. "Him and his people put on a show for us all. In the evenin', after they loaded up and headed out, we discovered that Mingo and a young friend of his were gone too. I follered 'em and checked their wagons, but there wasn't a trace of 'em to be found, 'cept for one lone feather of Mingo's. Ricketts swore he hadn't seen a trace of 'em, knew nothin' about their bein' missin'." Daniel summed the situation up.

Philip Astley's face flushed red with anger. "Ricketts!" he snorted. "If you shake 'ands with 'im, better check and make sure you get all five fingers back! Professes to be a kinsman of your George Washington!"

"Do tell," said Daniel. "If Ricketts is the scoundrel you claim him to be, no wonder General Washington don't claim him as kin!"

"Why would Ricketts 'ave abducted Mingo?" Astley questioned.

"I don't think he wanted Mingo as much as he wanted Tommy, the young'un. Mingo wouldn't have let them take the boy; they'd have had to take him too."

"What's so remarkable about this boy?" Astley demanded. "'H'if colonial boys are anything like the boys of my youth, 'e might've run away to join the circus! H'i myself ran away at 16 to join the Dragoons!"

"This ain't your usual colonial boy, Philip," Daniel replied, shaking his head. "Tommy's a giant - he's prob'ly 'bout eight feet tall. He's part Indian, like Mingo, from Mingo's tribe, in fact. He's been livin' the last several months with him at Chota, the Cherokee village near here. Tommy was too happy to find a home to run off with Ricketts. I figure Ricketts wanted to add to his collection of freaks."

Astley whistled his astonishment, "A giant boy, you say! 'Ow could Ricketts abduct them with none of you 'ere any the wiser?"

"Tommy wanted to go and speak to one of the performers, a little high-flyer," Daniel began, only to be interrupted by Cincinnatus' snort.

"In more ways than one!" snickered Cincinnatus, "Both of 'em were mighty taken with her!"

"High-flyer," Daniel repeated. "What's the high-falutin' word he used, Becky?"

Becky wrinkled her red eyebrows in thought, "Funambulists," she brought out triumphantly.

"Anyhow, Mingo and Tommy were gonna go speak to Miss Rousseau, and return to our cabin for supper, but they never showed. I was fixin' to take out again this mornin', and follow Ricketts. They ain't dead, leastways we ain't found their bodies, and they ain't around here. They've gotta be with Ricketts. I plan on follerin' em all the way to New York, if need be."

"Mr. Boone," Astley began, but Daniel interrupted.

"Philip, 'Daniel' or 'Dan' is plenty good enough for me. Mr. Boone's my pa." Daniel interrupted.

"Daniel," Astley started over, "H'if you don't mind, H'id like to accompany you. H'im on my way to New York anyway. H'i might be of more assistance than one of these," he gestured at the crowd of settlers gathered around Old Bet. "H'i 'ave certain h'inside knowledge of 'ow circuses operate," he added with a grin.

"Philip," Daniel replied, returning Astley's grin, "I'd be proud to have your help, but what about Old Bet? We need to travel fast, and we might need to move secretly. It'd be mighty hard to hide an elephant!"

Astley mpdded his head in agreement, "H'i know it's a h'imposition, Daniel, but could Bet remain here? H'in spite of 'er size, she's almost as docile as any other four-legged creature H'i've 'andled."

Daniel turned to Cincinnatus, "Reckon you could look after the elephant 'til we get back? I'd be mighty obliged to you."

Cincinnatus' knees were frankly knocking. "Well, I reckon it'd be all right, but what does it eat?" he quavered timidly.

Astley was grinning broadly, "H'anything she takes a mind to, old chap!"

While Becky and Jemima went back to the cabin to fill a haversack with a few things for Daniel and Philip, Astley gave Cincinnatus instructions on how to care for Old Bet. The older man was clearly frightened of the mammoth creature, but equally as determined to care for her to the best of his ability. Every time Old Bet moved, Cincinnatus inched further away. Israel fetched a bucket of water for Bet, who playfully squirted him with a trunkful of water.

Daniel saw and chuckled. "Cincinnatus, you get any any further back, you're gonna be feedin' her from the next county." Daniel saw the beads of sweat on the old man's forehead, and regretted his words.

Israel had plainly taken a shine to the gargantuan elephant. He stood as close to her as possible, patting anything he could reach. The elephant, too, seemed to have formed an attachment for the child. She ran her trunk gently over his small form, caressing and mouthing his clothing, his hair. Israel squealed with joy as Bet seized him around the middle and lifted him off the ground. Old Bet matched his squeal with one of her own. Cincinnatus fainted dead away.

His mother saw as she returned from the cabin with Jemima, and broke into an undignified gallop. Jemima lifted her skirts and sprinted after her mother.

"Daniel!" Becky let out another piercing shriek, "That monster is eating my baby! What did it do to Cincinnatus?"

"No, no, Mrs. Boone," Astley assured her, smiling. "She's just playing with the lad. She's h'actually quite gentle. I think your friend fainted from fright!"

"What does she want with Israel?" Becky demanded. She seized Jemima around the waist and held her back, just in case the girl wanted to touch the elephant too. Becky had clearly decided she would not risk losing both her offspring to the monster.

"She's just as curious as the young'un, Becky," Daniel said soothingly. "She ain't gonna hurt a hair on his head!"

Just then Old Bet let go of the child, who dropped to the ground with a thud.

"Perhaps, Mr Boone," Astley was stroking his chin consideringly, "H'it is a bit much to ask of your good townspeople. She's a darling, but she can be an 'andful. Would you mind bringing 'er with us?"

"Well, you never know," Daniel chuckled, "I can't imagine how, but she might come in handy!" He picked up the bucket the elephant had been drinking from and sloshed its remaining water over Cincinnatus, who sputtered and sat up.

"Rest easy, Cincinnatus. I reckon we'll take Ol' Bet with us."

"Thank goodness," Cincinnatus sighed, "you'll be takin' that hay-burnin' behemoth with you I didn't fancy lookin' after her, pourin' hay into her while you'll be gone, Dan'l!"

Israel left off hugging the elephant's huge leg, and came to hang on his father, "Pa, I wish Tommy was here to see Old Bet," he said. "I miss Mingo too," he added. "Did Mingo get to see Old Bet in Salem, Pa?"

"Yep, Mingo saw her in Salem, Israel," his father nodded, "But he'd seen elephants in London too."

A thought occurred to Daniel, and he turned to Astley, "Philip, you never did say, and in all the flummery I clean forgot, but what're you lookin' for Mingo for?"

Astley suddenly looked sheepish, "H'i thought 'e might like to run away and join my circus!" 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Mingo and Tommy recovered quickly from the effects of Madame La Beard's poppy tea. Tommy was right as rain immediately. Mingo's more sensitive stomach required a day or so longer. Madame La Beard began instructing Tommy in his new position as a curiosity in the sideshow.

"We ain't freaks," Tommy airily informed Mingo as they sat together in Mademoiselle Rousseau's wagon one evening, sharing their evening meal. "Madame La Beard says we's 'human oddities'."

"The woman is certainly an oddity," Mingo shuddered at Madame La Beard's name.

Tommy saw it, and laughed. "Aw, Mingo, she ain't that bad. She's always sneakin' me extra food – Mr. Ricketts says I ain't earnin' what it takes to feed me."

"Mam'zelle" as Marie Victorine preferred to be called, continued to bunk with Madame La Beard. Mam'zelle's own wagon was apparently more escape-proof. John Bill Ricketts was taking no chance that his new prize "human oddity" might escape, taking the Indian Clown with him.

For "Indian Clown" was indeed the role that Ricketts had proclaimed Mingo should play in his circus.

Mingo was biding his time; he was sure Daniel was in hot pursuit of Ricketts and his circus. Mingo knew and trusted Daniel Boone better than any man alive. There was no way the big Kentuckian would allow them to languish in Ricketts' keeping, against their will. It was simply a matter of time - Daniel's time. Meanwhile, Mingo considered, he would rather play the fool than stand half-clad in the dark tent allowing laughing circus patrons to stare at him and jeer.

"''Making the best of a bad bargain', Daniel would say," sighed Mingo. "And what have you learned today, Master Talltrees?"

"Aw, there ain't much to bein' a giant, Mingo," complained Tommy, as he stuffed himself with bread and cheese. "It ain't much different from just bein' myself," he went on. "Madame La Beard thinks I oughtta show folks how I sit and how I stand up, and just walk back 'n forth in front of 'em. Stupid, I call it! What did you learn today, Mingo?"

Mingo rolled his eyes comically and shook his head, "I fear I do not have your talent for 'being myself', Tommy."

The boy giant went on eating, saying nothing, nodding to Mingo to encourage him to continue.

"Ricketts is trying to come up with some little farce for me to perform. He has considered and discarded the idea of me wrestling bears, thank the Creator! Bears are too valuable and too difficult to procure. I, however, am dispensable!" Tommy frowned at the unfamiliar word, so Mingo explained. "Not necessary, Tommy, easily replaced. He has weighed and abandoned 'leaping', in which I am to propel myself from a springboard over the backs of several horses – I am quite lacking in acrobatic skill, it seems. One must begin as an infant to be a proficient circus acrobat. My ancient bones are rebelling, Tommy! Ricketts insisted that I take a turn as a 'flip-flapper'," Mingo pronounced the word with distaste, "for him to observe before he agreed that I lacked any talent there either. Every bone and muscle in my body is screaming in protest." he winced as his hands massaged the small of his back.

Tommy had no sympathy. The boy laughed loudly, "We all watched you flip-flappin', Mingo. It ain't like you to be so clumsy. Sure was lucky you had that pile of hay!"

Mingo grimaced, "Yes, I heard the laughing from the sideshow. Show a little mercy, if you please - that 'pile of hay', as you call it, had already passed through the horse!"

"Mam'zelle said you was lucky you didn't break your fool neck. Said you gotta be small to be a good acrobat!" Tommy was pitiless.

The tall Cherokee gave Tommy a dirty look but the boy was totally oblivious, continuing to laugh at the memory of Mingo leaping over the long-suffering nag and landing in a pile of manure. The thought of horse manure had Mingo reaching for the bucket of water provided for them earlier. He fished the sliver of soap and a towel out of the cupboard over the bunk, peeled off the over-sized shirt and began to scrub himself.

The click of the lock revealed unexpected company. The door swung open, and Marie Victorine climbed up into the wagon. This time, she carried no tray. Tommy sat taller, smiling brightly at Mam'zelle's appearance. She gave Mingo a cheeky smile as he hurriedly pulled his shirt back over his head. She carried a bundle of clothing which she dropped onto the bunk. She planted herself beside it. It was close quarters in the wagon with all three of them. Tommy's knees were practically up under his chin.

"'Allo, Monsieur Mingo, Tommee," she said. She shook a finger under Mingo's nose. "You will have to do better, chéri ," she said firmly, "Monsieur Ricketts will kill you trying to find something you can do to earn your keep! You are too maladroit for the acrobat," Mingo winced, but she continued, "Too old to try to begin the funambule!"

Tommy gave a shout of laughter at Mingo's rueful expression. Tommy was no older than fourteen at most. Mingo guessed Mam'zelle to be not much more than twenty.

"Too old!" Mingo protested. "Mademoiselle, you wound me to the quick! You make me sound as old as Methuselah." He held up the the bundle Marie Victorine had brought. "What is this? I have already refused . . ."

"Non, non, chéri," Marie Victorine assured him, "this is the same clothing you are wearing," she gestured at the outfit of Tommy's that Mingo still wore, sleeves and legs rolled up, ribbon holding the trousers up, "but to fit you. I told Monsieur Ricketts that you would surely kill yourself in the clothes too big. Trying to make the acrobat out of the old man!" her angry expression showed what she thought of that idea.

The "old man" began to protest, "I am not so very old, Mademoiselle! I do not know what sort of skill I might possess that Ricketts would find acceptable. What tricks do clowns usually perform? I am accounted a decent horseman."

"Non," Marie Victorine shook her head, "Monsieur Ricketts allows no one to ride the horse but himself. He is afraid someone might show him up!" she added derisively, her lip curling. "Can you juggle?"

Mingo shook his head, "It is not a skill usually required in an Indian village, Mademoiselle."

"He kin use that bullwhip like you wouldn't believe!" Tommy interjected, sitting upright.

"What can you do with it, chéri?" Marie Victorine queried.

"Anything he likes!" exclaimed Tommy, before Mingo could speak.

Mingo scowled at Tommy, who was squirming with excitement.

"Tels que?" Marie Victorine looked at Mingo consideringly, "Such as?" she repeated for Tommy.

"Oh, he kin snap just about anything outta your hand!" Tommy boasted. Mingo gave him another peeved glance.

"Chéri, this is so?" At her question, Mingo nodded slowly, reluctantly.

"And he kin sing!" Tommy blurted triumphantly.

"Un chanteur?" Marie Victorine was thinking. "I shall tell these things to Monsieur Ricketts." she gave Mingo one of her coquettish smiles. "Perhaps this is something you can do without killing yourself completely!"

"Rêves doux!" floated back over her shoulder as she bounced back down out of the wagon.

"Ain't she somethin', Mingo?" sighed Tommy dreamily.

The girl was indeed "something", Mingo thought - a minx and a coquette.

He arose, pulled off the clothing of Tommy's he wore, and finished his ablutions in silence. He began to dress himself in the trousers Marie Victorine had brought. They were nearly perfect in size, although a belt had still been omitted. He shrugged and tied the red ribbon around his waist once more. It was too stuffy in the wagon to bother with the shirt.

Tommy finished off the bread and cheese, sighing in contemplation of Marie Victorine all the while. Mingo climbed into the bunk and thumped the pillow. He had won the bunk by default. Tommy was simply too big, even curled into a ball, to fit into the wagon's bed. The pillow smelled faintly of French perfume. Mingo chucked the pillow at Tommy's head.

"Don't you think she's somethin'?" Tommy repeated. The boy began to settle himself on the pallet of blankets on the floor, sniffing the scented pillow. He gave another heartfelt sigh.

Mingo rolled his eyes, and laughed, "Something indeed, Tommy! I wish I knew what Machiavellian plan the young lady has for me. Bonne nuit!"

***************

Daniel was not able to follow Ricketts' circus as quickly as he had hoped. He could understand Philip Astley's reluctance to leave the elephant in Boonesborough. After all, no one there had experience of anything larger than an ox, and in spite of Astley's protestations of Old Bet's gentleness, she was, after all, born free and wild.

Daniel considered his situation and grinned. It really wasn't so bad traveling with Old Bet. Astley used the same commands each time to get the elephant to do his bidding. After a day or so on the trail, they were becoming familiar to Daniel.

"Down!" meant the elephant should drop to her knees and elbows. When she did so, Astley would take hold of her headgear and pull himself up on her neck between head and back. Once he had seated himself, he would call "Up!" Old Bet would rise, and Astley would admonish her to "Go on!"

Astley insisted that Old Bet could easily carry them both. Daniel assured him that he preferred being on the ground to swaying in the air on Old Bet's back. "Suit yourself," Philip grinned back at Daniel. "You'll tire before she will!"

The elephant proceeded regally down the trail following Daniel. She snatched branches and leaves off trees as she passed, but she continued to do Astley's bidding amiably enough. Astley was genuinely fond of the beast, and insisted she be treated gently. He carried a hook, an "ankus", it was called, but rarely used it on Old Bet.

"H'elephants eat nearly all day h'every day," Astley informed Daniel as they traveled. "H'it ain't been a problem feedin' 'er on the trail. She eats like a cow – an 8,000 pound cow!" he laughed.

At night they bedded down near water – Old Bet liked to roll in the water each evening, cleaning herself. Astley produced a length of chain from his bag and hobbled the elephant.

"Wondered what all that clankin' was," Daniel admitted, as he sipped his cup of coffee. "Would she really wander off?"

"Oh, yes," Astley agreed, "The chain don't really stop 'er," he added. "She just thinks h'it does."

They sat in silence, listening and watching while Old Bet denuded the tree she was hobbled to for her evening meal.

"'Ow soon do you think we'll h'overtake Ricketts, Daniel?" Philip Astley asked, sipping his coffee.

"Reckon that depends on how far 'n how fast he's travelin'," Daniel said mildly, "And how fast you can poke Old Bet along."

"She can travel thirty, forty miles a day, Daniel," replied Astley. "We made good time coming from Salem."

"Been meanin' to ask about that," Daniel was reminded, "The last we heard, you was headin' for New York. What are you doin' in Kentucky lookin' for Mingo? You wasn't serious about him joinin' your circus?"

"Yes and no," admitted Astley. "No, H'i don't seriously think 'e'd join my circus, but 'e's an excellent rider. Thought the people might like to see a real live savage. 'E told you about the 'Tailor Ridin' to Brentford', didn't 'e? 'E didn't tell you 'e could do it almost as well as H'i can meself!"

Daniel grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. His Cherokee brother was a man of many talents, most of them unacknowledged, it seemed. "That's a sight I'd like fine to see!"

"Never know, 'e might like to go back and visit 'is family. Lord Dunsmore's got 'imself several more little sprigs 'sides Kerr, you know? Can't 'urt to ask, can h'it? Stick 'im h'in feathers, paint 'im up, don't you know? Be a real crowd pleaser, 'e would!"

"You don't say," said Daniel, noncommittally. "Personally, I reckon pigs'd sprout wings 'n fly before Mingo'd ever go back to England."

"'Oo said anything about England, Daniel?" asked Astley, sounding astonished. "H'i know 'e'd never go back to England, but that don't mean 'e wouldn't do a friend a favor. Can't 'urt to ask, can h'it?"

"Why are you so anxious to catch up to Ricketts?" Daniel asked. "Mingo 'n Tommy aside, I mean?"

Astley furrowed his eyebrows, and scowled. "H'i'd like to give him a kick h'in the pants," he growled. "'E's stolen some of my best h'ideas and passed 'em off as 'is own!"

"Such as?" Daniel prodded.

Astley was more than willing to voice his complaints. "'E's stolen my ring!"

"Your ring?" repeated Daniel, wonderingly. Somehow Astley didn't strike Daniel as a man to wear jewelry.

"My 42 foot ring – h'it's the thing that makes all the difference h'in the world, Daniel, when h'it comes to trick ridin'." Astley began to speak even more quickly, "And 'e's stolen my routines! Jumping h'over 'orses, dancing in the saddle, riding with and without bridles. Juggling, 'Flying Mercury', you name h'it, 'e's lifted h'it!"

"You think a kick in the pants is gonna get your ring and your routines back?" Daniel pointed out, reasonably.

"No," admitted Astley, "But killing 'im might!" 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

LeBrun came for him almost before the sun was fully up in the sky. He rapped loudly on the wagon door. Tommy continued to snore loudly, but Mingo dragged himself from the bunk, groaning. Every muscle in his body hurt, even some he hadn't realized he had.

"I am older than Methuselah," he thought ruefully. "Certainly I was not cut out to be a circus acrobat!"

He pulled the new shirt over his head, pulled it down over the new trousers, and settled the jaunty red ribbon in place. LeBrun climbed up into the wagon, carrying Mingo's own bullwhip. He also carried a pistol tucked into his belt.

"You are ready for your audition, Indien?" he inquired, with his customary sour expression.

Mingo ignored him, and splashed water on his face from the bucket of water. The coffee in the pot left by Marie Victorine the night before with their evening meal was stone cold, but Mingo poured it into a cup and drank it anyway. Mingo was procrastinating, and he knew it, but he was dreading another day like the one before.

"Hurry, Indien!" LeBrun was growing impatient, "Monsieur Ricketts awaits his clown!"

"I am no one's clown," Mingo said firmly. LeBrun ignored him.

When they were outside the wagon, LeBrun seized Mingo's arm and dragged him off to where Ricketts' wagon was standing. LeBrun released him when they were in Ricketts' presence. The man sat in an armchair like a king upon his throne.

Mingo looked around for moral support, but found none. Most of the denizens of the circus had arranged themselves around Ricketts' chair. Marie Victorine was there too, smiling encouragingly. Mingo noticed she held a mandolin in her hands.

Ricketts rose from his chair and approached Mingo. "Well, Indian," he began, "Victorine tells me that you can really use your bullwhip."

Mingo shrugged. "You will have to try me and see for yourself," he replied. "I will require a target."

Ricketts gestured, and Marie Victorine stepped forward. "Victorine says she will be happy to assist you."

Mingo shrugged, "Please yourself, Mademoiselle. My level of skill is not what it once was, despite Tommy's braggadocio."

"What do you mean, Indian?" demanded Ricketts. "The boy Tall Trees said you were extremely skilled with the whip."

"My name is 'Mingo'. I was. I suffered an unfortunate accident last winter." Mingo said mildly. "An arrow in my shoulder. I have practiced valiantly, but find I no longer am as capable as I once was."

Marie Victorine smiled, "I have no fear, Monsieur Mingo. Let us begin."

"I will require something for a target," Mingo said. "Have you any candles?"

One of the onlookers brought a handful of candles. LeBrun handed the whip over, scowling. The tall Cherokee accepted it with his left hand. Mingo gestured; Marie Victorine extended her arms, holding one lighted candle in each hand. Mingo uncoiled his whip and snapped it experimentally. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that LeBrun had taken the pistol out of his waist and was aiming it his way. Nothing like enthusiastic encouragement, Mingo thought ruefully.

The whip cracked loudly, and each burning candle was extinguished. Marie Victorine's smile grew wider. Mingo gestured again; he held up two fingers to his assistant. This time Marie Victorine held two lighted candles in each hand. He cracked the whip again, and this time both candles were snuffed out together. Marie Victorine dropped the stubs and applauded with enthusiasm.

"This is very good indeed, Indian." Ricketts said. "What more could you possibly do?"

Mingo was exasperated. "My name is 'Mingo'." he reminded Ricketts again. "I could do a great deal more before."

Tommy hailed them as he approached, munching on an apple. "Hello, Mam'zelle! Mingo, you ain't even using the right hand! You ain't cack-handed!"

Ricketts looked surprised, "You are ambidextrous, Indian? He uses either hand, Tall Trees?"

Mingo shrugged again. Tommy nodded enthusiastically. "You oughtta see him!" Mingo made a shushing motion toward Tommy, who paid no attention.

"Fetch something else for our modest friend," called Ricketts, gesturing to the onlookers. They hurried off and came back with bits of straw, leaves off the trees, feathers from who knew where.

"Take Victorine's place, Tall Trees," directed Ricketts. The tiny aerialist came to stand behind Mingo, while Tommy moved into her place, grinning widely. Marie Victorine gave him a tiny wink and a charming smile.

The boy giant swooped up a piece of straw in each hand. Mingo snapped them out of Tommy's hands easily. Tommy pretended to yawn his boredom while Mingo snapped each item the boy held out of his hands. After five more minutes, switching hands occasionally, Mingo had had enough foolishness.

"You have seen enough to judge my skill, Ricketts," Mingo said quietly. "You must decide now whether to continue to hold me prisoner, or allow Tommy and me to leave your circus."

"No one leaves my circus, Indian," sneered Ricketts. "Victorine! You said the Indian can sing?"

"Oui, Monsieur," Marie Victorine was nodding. The look she was sending the Cherokee was, for once, not coquettish, but warmly encouraging and sincere.

Ricketts nodded to Mingo, "Then I would suggest, Indian, that you sing."

"I can accompany you, if you wish it, Monsieur Mingo," whispered Marie Victorine.

"I can accompany myself," Mingo reluctantly held out his hand for the mandolin.

He strummed a few notes, and began to sing. Marie Victorine looked surprised, then astonished.

"In Scarlet Town where I was born,  
There was a fair maid dwellin'  
Made every lad cry 'Well-a-day',  
And her name was Barbara Allen."

All in the merry month of May,  
When green buds all were swellin'  
Young William on his deathbed lay,  
For love of Barbara Allen."

Mingo's warm baritone voice was silent. Marie Victorine gave a huge audible sigh.

"Bravo, bravo, Mingo!" she murmured. "Vous pouvez en effet chanter!  
You can indeed sing!" she repeated in English.

Ricketts gestured for Mingo to continue. The Cherokee shrugged and continued to sing.

"He sent his servant to the town,  
To the place that she did dwell in,  
Saying, 'Master Dear has sent me here  
If your name be Barbara Allen.'

"Then slowly, slowly got she up,  
And slowly drew she nigh him,  
And all she said, when there she came,  
Was 'Young man, I think you're dying!'

"He turned his face unto the wall  
And death was with him a'dealing,  
'Farewell, farewell, dear comrades all,  
And be kind to Barbara Allen'.

"When he was dead and in his grave,  
She heard the death bell a'knelling.  
And every note did seem to say  
'Hard-hearted Barbara Allen!'

"'Mother, Mother, make up my bed,  
Make it soft and narrow  
Sweet William died for love of me,  
And I shall die of sorrow!'

"They buried William in the old churchyard  
And Barbara in the choir,  
Out of William's grave, there grew a rose,  
From Barbara's a cruel briar."

"They grew and grew in the old churchyard  
'Til they could grow no higher,  
And there they twined, in a true lover's knot,  
The red, red rose and the briar."

As the last vibrant notes faded away, the onlookers burst into applause. Mingo nodded politely and handed the mandolin back to Marie Victorine. LeBrun's hand was on the pistol in his belt, and he shot a menacing look at Mingo, who ignored him.

Marie Victorine was applauding, "Merveilleux!" Her dark eyes were shining.

Ricketts was looking speculative. "Well, Mingo, perhaps you may yet earn your keep!"

LeBrun gestured toward Mingo and Tommy, "Back to your caravan, messieurs." He pointed with the gun back the way they had come.

Mingo took Tommy by the arm and said conversationally, "Have you ever played cards, Tommy? Piquet, perhaps or loo?"

Tommy shook his head, and Mingo continued in low tones, "Ah, I thought not. It is customary, Master Talltrees, to hold one's cards close to one's own chest. A wise card player does not disclose what he holds in his hand to the rest of the players!"

Tommy shook his head again, "Huh?"

Mingo resisted the temptation to box the giant boy's ears, "Don't tell everything you know!"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"Glad you changed your mind, Daniel?" teased Astley, as they bounced along the trail through the woods.

Daniel had finally consented, after two days' march, to climb up on Old Bet behind Philip Astley and ride on the elephant's back. It was an interesting sensation, Daniel decided, riding ten feet off the ground on the broad swaying back of Old Bet. He found Philip Astley to be an engaging companion, still loud and boisterous, but in a likable sort of way. The man talked. About everything, Daniel discovered. The scenery they were lumbering through, colonial customs, circus life, on and on, and on. Everything was interesting to Philip Astley.

Mingo was a congenial companion too in his own quiet way, Daniel considered. Mingo might occasionally burst into song, or talk sometimes, but mostly, Mingo listened. Neither of them being much of a talker, Daniel and Mingo spent most of their time together in quiet companionability. Astley, though not at all well educated, could discourse on almost any subject imaginable, and liked to do so. Daniel discovered after two days in the man's company, that he liked best to listen to Astley talk about his trick riding and training animals.

"Takes a bit of gettin' used to, don't it?" Daniel observed. He suspected his leg muscles would protest at the end of the day when they stopped and made camp for the evening. He surreptitiously rubbed the insides of his thighs, when Philip wasn't looking.

"H'everything does," Astley agreed. "H'elephants, though, they ain't much like 'orses. Did you know, Daniel, that h'elephants never forget?"

"Forget what, Philip?" Daniel asked.

"Forget anything!" Astley said, "H'if you 'urt an elephant, she'll never forget or forgive you. She'll remember and pay you back h'if it's the last thing she does. You wouldn't want a h'elephant 'olding a grudge, Daniel. H'it's true! H'i 'aven't much experience with h'elephants, as yet, but H'i 'ope to h'in the future. They're bloody useful h'animals, Daniel. They've much more h'endurance than 'orses or oxen, can work much longer than other domestic h'animals. H'in India, they ride 'em h'everywhere!"

"India, ain't that somewheres over near China?" Daniel asked.

"Yes, h'indeed, Daniel. They use 'em for clearing land – ain't nothing better for knocking down trees and clearing land than a h'elephant! Might find 'em dead useful 'ere in your Kaintucky!"

Philip Astley loved animals, but he was fonder still of the sound of his own voice. He lectured Daniel, a captive audience, on animal training that afternoon after a brief midday stop. Daniel had snared a rabbit, and showed Astley how to thread it on a stick over a fire and cook it. Daniel wondered how Astley had managed to survive on the trip from Salem. He had no idea how to light a fire without a flint and steel, or snare animals.

He lacked skill with a gun too; "Spent my time h'in the Dragoons breaking their 'orses, not fighting the h'enemy!" he had confided to Daniel. "Won me h'onors for capturing the h'enemy's flag – didn't 'ave to kill anyone doing h'it!"

"H'i stopped and h'exhibited Old Bet in taverns and inn yards on the way here from Salem," Astley said, as if he had read Daniel's mind. "Farmers and settlers are plenty h'interested in h'animal oddities, and the pounds, shillings, and pence do add up. H'i just used the money to buy provisions for myself as we came. Bet can look after 'erself. She 'elped 'erself to fruit on trees, and leaves and grasses along the way."

"No-" Philip sighed and patted his now-full stomach after they had shared the rabbit. "H'i don't believe in using cruelty when H'i train an animal, Daniel. Animals that learn by cruelty never h'are fully trained. They just wait for the opportunity to lash out h'at their trainers. Now you take Old Bet – told you H'i got her off a captain, didn't H'i? Name of Captain Jacob Crowninshield – fine sounding name, ain't h'it? Dunno where 'e got her – but she was well-nigh trained when H'i bought 'er off 'im. Told me to use the h'ankus on 'er whenever H'i give 'er a command. Ain't done h'it yet, and ain't been sorry, either. She's a perfect lamb, she h'is." Old Bet was devouring a tree close by where they were lounging by the fire, but at the sound of her name, she used her trunk to touch Astley's cheek gently. He patted her trunk and made kissing noises. Daniel hid his grin.

"Reckon we could show her off in any inn yards or taverns we might pass along the way, Philip?" he questioned. "We might could pick up a few pounds, shillins' and pence that'd come in right handy. It'll give us an opportunity to ask if folks hereabouts have seen Ricketts' circus. And find out if he's showin' off a giant boy," he added significantly.

Each day brought interesting new details. A circus caravan had indeed traveled the same route they were taking, heading for their stated destination of New York. Yes, there had been the incredible riding demonstration (Astley snorted in disgust here), the dog and pony show, and the funambulists, among other things. No, there had not been a giant boy, though there had been a dwarf, and incredibly, a woman, a real woman who had a long beard! For a price, the woman had allowed people to tug her beard until tears came into her eyes.

Astley's eyes widened at this information. "Sounds like we're on the right trail, Daniel," Astley whispered to the big Kentuckian.

"'Pears so, Philip," Daniel whispered back.

Astley called "Down!" to Old Bet, who sank obediently to the ground. Philip seized her head harness, and clambered up. He extended his hand down to Daniel, who seized it, stepped up on Bet's leg and climbed up behind Astley.

"Go on!" ordered Astley and Old Bet rose and began to lumber off down the road.

****************

The workmen immediately loaded up the wagons and the caravan began traveling as soon as Mingo and Tommy were ushered back into Marie Victorine's wagon and securely locked inside. There were no books to read or any other form of entertainment, so both of them were disposed to sleep the time away. Mingo climbed back into the bunk. Tommy again made himself comfortable in the pallet of blankets on the floor. It was almost impossible for the two tall Cherokees to be comfortable in the cramped caravan. The only window was never opened, so the cabin was usually swelteringly hot.

There was no noonday stop that day, apparently to make up for the time lost during Mingo's "audition" for Ricketts. Before their departure, LeBrun handed in another packet of food for the midday meal, more of the bread and cheese they had eaten at every meal since regaining their senses. They were sick of bread and cheese. Mingo was not particular about the food he ate, as a rule. He had been known to laughingly complain of having to eat jerky meal after meal, but then, he also complained about Daniel's cooking as well as his own. His highest praise was reserved for Rebecca Boone's cooking. Daniel always swore Mingo could smell Becky's stew all the way to Chota, a half day's walk from Boonesborough.

The wagons ground to a halt early that evening. Tommy and Mingo could hear the familiar shouts and noises of the circus settling in for the evening. No one came to release them from the wagon, so they simply continued to sleep the boredom away. As a warrior, Mingo had learned long before to sleep whenever the occasion presented itself. Tommy had learned the same trick during the months he spent at Chota over the summer.

Mingo was dreaming of Rebecca Boone's cooking. He was sure he could smell the tantalizing scent of stew. A sharp poke in the midriff brought him up from sleep. LeBrun was speaking.

"Come," the poke came from the pistol in LeBrun's grip. "Monsieur Ricketts is disposed to allow you some fresh air tonight. You are to join the rest of us around the fire."

Tommy sat up yawning, and brightened at the news. Mingo sat up slowly and pulled his moccasins back on. He wondered what trick Ricketts was planning next.

LeBrun gave them his now-familiar sneer, and gestured toward the door with the gun. Tommy led the way on his hands and knees. Mingo grinned irrepressibly. Watching the boy giant depart the little wagon was like watching a huge dog depart a kennel.

"Venez ici!" Marie Victorine waved a petite hand, "Come and sit with me!"

A few of the circus troupe were sitting on camp chairs, but most, like Marie Victorine, were sitting or sprawling on blankets, enjoying the pleasant evening. LeBrun followed them to the tiny aerialist's blanket, but when she sniffed, and pointedly gave him a cold shoulder, he moved away to sit elsewhere. Mingo noted that the gun was still pointed in their direction. LeBrun's message was clear.

Tommy nearly bowled Mingo over in his haste to obey her. The Cherokee followed more slowly. They seated themselves on Marie Victorine's blanket. Madame La Beard was ladling food from the pot over the fire into bowls and passing them out. Mingo still couldn't bring himself to eat anything the bearded woman's hands had touched.

Marie Victorine caught his look of dismay and grinned impishly, "Don't worry, chéri," she whispered. "Madame La Beard cannot cook. She merely doles out. I shall myself fill a bowl for you!" She rose and sauntered over to the bearded woman, and stood patiently in the line. She whispered to Madame La Beard, who looked at Mingo and nodded and smiled. Marie Victorine took the ladle from the bearded woman and ladled a portion into a bowl for Mingo.

She brought it back and handed it and a pewter spoon to the smiling Cherokee. " Ragoût, Monsieur Mingo," she curtsied.

Mingo sniffed surreptitiously. His eyebrows crept up his forehead. It was indeed stew. He thanked Marie Victorine politely and began to eat. Tommy joined the line around the pot. Madame La Beard fished out a large bowl from the pile on the table near the fire, and filled it for the boy, smiling. The boy smiled broadly in thanks. Tommy, Mingo noticed, did not seem to hold a grudge against the woman. Then again, he thought ruefully, Tommy had merely slept the first week of their captivity away.

Tommy wolfed down the contents of the bowl, returned to the line by the fire, and came back with a second bowl which he ate almost as quickly. Mingo ate more slowly, savoring the first non-bread meal he had eaten in days.

"Ain't you eatin', Mam'zelle?" the Tommy inquired.

Marie Victorine had taken out a basket and was working on the strangest bit of handiwork Mingo had ever seen. "One meal a day only for me, chéri," she answered the boy. "Too much eating, I grow too fat to walk the rope, non?"

Mingo was still eating, but he was enjoying watching Marie Victorine's deft little hands stitching away on her project. "What is it you are working on, Mademoiselle? From the little I know of sewing or mending, you appear to be an excellent seamstress."

"Oui, Monsieur Mingo," she agreed, with a teasing smile. "I am a most excellent seamstress. I was taught by the sisters at my convent school, in La Nouvelle-Orléans." She held up her bit of sewing. Marie Victorine was carefully stitching the skin of a snake onto a long cylindrical bit of wax! Before his astonished eyes, she pulled out a chicken's skin, feathers still attached, feet still protruding.

"What the devil?" Mingo sputtered. Tommy gave a gasp of surprise too.

"It is a little project for Monsieur Ricketts. It is a . . . " Marie Victorine searched her English words for the proper one, "- humbug!" She brought out the word triumphantly. "It is intended to deceive the people. It will go into the sideshow. Monsieur Ricketts calls it a chicken serpent. I will sew the skin onto the wax snake and stuff it with cotton. Étonnant, oui?"

Tommy regarded his goddess with new eyes. Mingo snorted derisively, "One should have known it would be Ricketts' idea."

"I do only as I am told, Monsieur Mingo, Tommee," she assured them. "I am still a most excellent seamstress. It was I who made your clothing!"

Since Mingo had received his own set of clothing, Tommy's had been cleaned and returned. They were now clad in identical clothing. "The long and short of it," Ricketts had jeered and laughed.

The clothing resembled no Indian attire Mingo had ever seen, but they fit and were at least clean, he reasoned. But they did indeed look foolish. Mingo sighed. He had no doubt that it was part of John Bill Ricketts' plan to intimidate and conquer.

Marie Victorine eyed them with her coquettish look. Mingo guessed that this was her usual expression, playing the part of the minx she portrayed on the high wire.

She leaned in close and whispered, "After the meal, would you like to see the sideshow?"

Mingo found himself hoping it was only the freaks she had in mind. He glanced at LeBrun; the man was staring back at him.

Tommy was torn between spending time in Mam'zelle's company and seeing the sideshow, which he had seen every day and was thoroughly bored with. Mingo, though, was curious and nodded his assent.

Mademoiselle was a shameless flirt, Mingo decided. He had suspected as much, he thought, grinning inwardly. She winked and smiled at every male who came near the blanket, from young Master Francis Ricketts to the tall thin albino "Skeleton Man" of the sideshow. Wed, unwed, infantile, it made no difference to Marie Victorine. All of them basked in the sunshine of her smile. In return, she thrived and blossomed under male admiration. LeBrun sat frowning and scowling as he watched her simpering and smiling.

Two could play the game, Mingo thought. He gave Marie Victorine one of his own wide, dimpled smiles. She looked thunderstruck, as if she had never really seen him before. "Let me show you how a Cherokee plays the game, Mademoiselle," he thought to himself, and hoped he had the winning hand.

Tommy had gone back to the fire for a third bowl of stew. Mingo lay back on the blanket, smiling broadly at Marie Victorine. He was lying comfortably sprawled, hands under his head, enjoying the last rays of the summer sun and the fresh air after being locked in the wagon for so long. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He began to hum "Barbara Allen" in his rumbling baritone voice. He opened one eye a bit and peeped at Marie Victorine. She had shifted nearer him on the blanket. Another peep a minute or so later revealed she was picking out the stitches of the chicken serpent she had just sewed to her skirt. He smiled to himself, and continued humming tunefully. She cleared her throat. Mingo pretended not to hear. She scooted a few inches closer, and coughed delicately.

Mingo sat up immediately. "Are you chilled, chérie?" he inquired in gentle tones. He was amused to see Marie Victorine blush. "May I fetch you a wrap? It is but a step to your wagon," he assured her.

"Oh, no, non," she responded, blushing even harder. "I am quite . . . warm," she finished lamely.

Mingo favored her with another lazy smile, and lay back again, closing his eyes. Marie Victorine moved closer. Mingo doubted he could have slid a feather into the space between them. He wondered suddenly where Tommy could have drifted to. He began to hum again, a little louder this time.

A small hand was stroking one of his braids. He tried not to snicker. It was almost too easy. He continued humming, waiting.

"Monsieur Mingo," came Marie Victorine's throaty little voice, "Your hair is so shiny and soft. It is beautiful." she breathed.

"Thank you," Mingo smiled modestly. "It is the bear grease."

Marie Victorine bit off a gasp."Bear grease?" she shuddered. Mingo noticed she had moved back at least six inches and snatched her hand away.

"Oh, yes," the Cherokee assured her earnestly, "We Indiens swear by it. We use it all day, every day. Yes, indeed!"

Marie Victorine looked at him incredulously.

Mingo smiled inwardly, and pressed onward. "We use it on our hair. It keeps hair from turning gray, you know, and makes it grow faster. We rub it on our moccasins to waterproof them. We use it in ointments and salves for burns and injuries. We use it on ourselves instead of soap. It keeps our skin soft and supple, like the finest buckskin! Have you not noticed that Indian women have skin like the softest petals? Our women even use it for cooking. Delicious!" he added, trying not to laugh at her look of horror. He smiled mischievously, "We rub it on our babies before we throw them into the rivers. Our medicine men swear it makes them float! Why, even you white people use bear grease!"

"Non, non, I think not . . ." she said weakly.

"Oh, yes," he assured her. "I have had the pleasure of sleeping on your pillow, Mademoiselle, the last few nights," he pretended to sigh romantically. "I plainly detected the smell of bear grease in the perfume on your pillow. Like nectar to the bee," he added dreamily. "Did you not know that perfumeries use bear grease as a base for perfume?"

Mingo suspected that Mademoiselle might burn her pillow now that he had confessed to laying his bear-greased head upon it.

Marie Victorine looked faint. Mingo took pity on her. In truth, he had not meant to upset her. He sat up and began looking for something with which to fan her greenish face. LeBrun hurried up, looking angry.

"What have you done to her, Indien?" he said in furious tones.

Tommy heard the fracas and appeared on the scene. Mingo wondered vaguely where the boy had been.

"Why, nothing," Mingo said mildly, "We were merely discussing the remarkable properties of bear grease!" He rose to his full height. Standing, he towered over LeBrun by at least eight inches. Even his height seemed to infuriate LeBrun

Marie Victorine made a remarkable recovery. She was wringing her hands. It seemed to be a habit with her, Mingo noted absentmindedly.

"Please, Baptiste," she began, "Monsieur Mingo has done nothing. . . . "

LeBrun paid no attention to Marie Victorine. He yanked the pistol from his waistband and rammed it into the Cherokee's face. Unprepared, the blow knocked Mingo to his knees. LeBrun followed with another wicked blow from the pistol as he fell. Mingo dropped like a stone.

Marie Victorine shrieked, "Baptiste! You fool! He did nothing!"

Ricketts came striding up, "LeBrun, I have warned you about taking your temper out on my people!" He shouted over his shoulder angrily, "Martha! Get a couple of men and drag this Indian back to Victorine's wagon. Look after him," he added in disgust, as an afterthought.

"Monsieur Ricketts," Marie Victorine pleaded, "Monsieur Mingo does not care for Madame La Beard. May I tend to him?"

"Please yourself!" snapped Ricketts in irritation. "Baptiste, if you lay a hand on either of these two again . . . I wanted him to perform in tomorrow's show! Now he'll have bruises all over that handsome phiz . . . !"

Madame La Beard hurried over to survey the damage. "He will not be able to appear tomorrow, Mr. Ricketts." She beckoned hastily and two of the hostlers bent and dragged Mingo's arms up over their shoulders and began to carry him to Marie Victorine's wagon. His head was lolling. Blood dripped from the cut on his forehead. Tommy and Marie Victorine trailed along behind, like two lost lambs, dragging their tails behind them. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Mingo thought he must be dreaming. A feminine voice said, "Mon pauvre petit ami," while a cool, damp cloth was pressed gently against his face and chest.

He opened one eye. The other seemed to be swollen shut. The feminine voice belonged, of course, to Marie Victorine. The gentle hands, he realized in some surprise, belonged to Tommy, kneeling beside the bunk on which Mingo was sprawled. Bare to the waist again, he closed his eye, and sighed. He couldn't quite remember what had happened.

"Mingo," Tommy's voice was high pitched with relief. "Thank the Lord! I ain't never seen you bleed so much!"

"Tommee," Marie Victorine's voice was sharp, "Head wounds bleed a great deal!" Her voice changed to gentle and apologetic. "It was a nasty cut. I had to sew it shut!" her little hands gestured pulling a needle and thread. "Don't worry, chéri," she said, and smiled. "I am convent-trained. I am an excellent seamstress." She was, in fact, sewing away on something as she spoke.

Mingo's voice was faint, "Perhaps a little bear grease. . ." His lips twitched in a weak smile.

"Non, chéri," said Marie Victorine, "I am so sorry, mon cher," Her eyes filled suddenly with angry tears. "I would like to kill Jean-Paul Baptiste LeBrun!"she said through clenched teeth.

Mingo felt pleased at Marie Victorine's words. Perhaps the little minx had a heart after all.

Then she added, "After all my work, all that blood! Now I shall have to make you another shirt!"

************

The next time he woke, his aches and pains were even worse than the day before. His head pounded painfully; more like a blacksmith's anvil than Cherokee drums, he decided. He tried to sit up, gave it up as a lost cause, and flopped back on Marie Victorine's perfumed pillow. His groan got Tommy's attention.

"It ain't pretty," he advised the Cherokee, surveying him critically. "Try not to look in Mam'zelle's lookin' glass."

"I promise," Mingo assured him.

Tommy grudgingly helped him lift his head and drink some water. Though the boy's huge hands were gentle, it was obvious that he was aggrieved with the Cherokee. He helped Mingo settle back against the pillows, without speaking. The looks Tommy kept shooting him were black ones, and the silence was deafening.

Mingo sighed, "You may as well tell me what sins I have committed against you, Master Talltrees."

"Well," Tommy began, "It's your fault I gotta stay in this here wagon all day. I gotta keep wakin' you up. Madame La Beard's convinced you're gonna die in your sleep from the lump on your head and the black eye Baptiste gave you!" There was obviously more the boy wished to say.

"I will try not to die in my sleep," Mingo promised. "What else?" he prodded.

"You stole Mam'zelle right out from under my nose!" Tommy blurted suddenly.

Mingo's mouth fell open.

"You know you did! All that whip crackin' and singin'- I seen her smilin' and winkin' at you! And I seen you smilin' at her right back!"

"Tommy," Mingo found his voice, "Mademoiselle Marie Victorine is a coquette, a seasoned flirt. She smiles and winks at anything in trousers. Except Madame La Beard," he amended his statement. Tommy frowned at hearing his goddess described as a flirt, so Mingo hurried on. "She is a truly charming young lady, but I fear I am no competition for you. I am sure that Mademoiselle Rousseau admires you as much as Tekawitha and Jemima Boone do!"

Tommy smiled suddenly, and Mingo felt relief. "You are pretty old, ain't you?" Tommy said blandly.

"As Methuselah, boy," Mingo said weakly. "And today I feel even older!"

Tommy's mood changed, Mingo could tell, to take pity on the ancient, battered Indian. He whistled as he sat on the floor, but dutifully roused Mingo every hour, as commanded by Madame La Beard. He was quiet when he remembered to be. Mingo lay in the bed, every muscle aching, head pounding, and prayed for death. Preferably for the boy.

Mingo knew how awful he looked. He had had black eyes before, had looked at them in quiet water, and marveled at the colors of the rainbow. Tommy, grinning an evil grin, took Marie Victorine's looking glass down from the wall so that Mingo, unable to rise, could appreciate how terrible his appearance was.

There were at least a dozen neat stitches in his forehead above his black eye. He winced, thankful that he had at least been unconscious while Marie Victorine had done her stitching. She had apparently used the thread remaining in her needle. He had black stitches. Idly he wondered if she had completed her chicken serpent. His eye was swollen shut, and his cheekbone, the same lurid colors as his eye, was throbbing angrily. His jaw was swollen too making eating difficult. Fortunately he seemed to have lost his appetite. His head was pounding worse than ever too, but not quite as much as his conscience troubled him at the thought of the trickery he was preparing to work upon Tommy and Marie Victorine

At the midday, the lock clicked, the door swung open, and Marie Victorine bounced up the stairs. She was beaming. Until she took a good look at the Cherokee.

Marie Victorine paused, "Oh dear, mon pauvre petit ami! You will not make your circus début any time soon!"

She turned to Tommy, "You have done as Madame La Beard told you and woken him hourly?" Today she was all business.

Tommy nodded eagerly. "He ain't tried to die yet," he assured her. Mingo closed his eyes and prayed for enough strength to throttle Tommy.

Marie Victorine set the tray she carried down on the table. More of the interminable bread and cheese. A pot of what smelled like coffee. A jug of water and a glass. She busied herself fluffing her perfumed pillow under his head.

Tommy lifted Mingo's shoulders so Marie Victorine could put a bandage around his forehead. Mingo did his best to look weak and pitiful. She pulled a strip of cloth from her pocket and began to gently wrap it around his head, covering the stitches. Mingo lay quietly, eyes closed, hoping that Marie Victorine would behave herself and refrain from smiling and winking at him in his weakened condition. He needed Tommy on his side, not angry with him. Judging from LeBrun's reaction to a little lighthearted flirting, Mingo doubted he would survive any more of her attentions.

Tommy busied himself slicing bread and cheese, shooting looks over his shoulder to make sure that Mingo did not smile or wink at Marie Victorine. Mingo was careful to do neither. Tommy poured coffee into a cup as Marie Victorine directed, and brought it over to the bunk for her. At her frown, his eyes widened and he hurried back to pour one for Mingo too. She smiled her thanks, and Tommy sighed with pleasure.

Mingo struggled up on one elbow and drank the coffee quickly. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and lay pretending to be asleep, hoping that Marie Victorine would take the hint and leave.

He almost groaned out loud when he heard her say in coaxing tones, "Tommee, would you like to ride with Baptiste this afternoon? I will stay with Monsieur Mingo, to keep him company. You would like some fresh air, non?"

"No, Mademoiselle, I am fine - I do not need a nurse," Mingo protested. Mam'zelle did not agree.

Tommy would not like some fresh air, but he gave in with ill grace, and departed slamming the door. Mingo's head began to pound harder. A few minutes later, the wagon jolted and began to move again. The noon break was over. Marie Victorine sat quietly, busy with her basket of needlework. Mingo hoped she would not press him for conversation. He considered pretending to snore, but abandoned the idea. Tommy's slamming the door would have woken the dead, much less one concussed Cherokee.

Marie Victorine sat quietly sewing for quite some time. Then she spoke, "Please do not be angry with Baptiste, cheri. He is not a bad man - he does only what Monsieur Ricketts tells him, whether he agrees or not."

Mingo lay quietly, feigning sleep.

"You are not asleep, Monsieur Mingo. Will you not talk to me?"

He opened his good eye warily, "What is it you wish to discuss, Mademoiselle? The healing properties of bear grease?"

She smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Non, I would like to confide in you."

Mingo nodded, "Very well, Mademoiselle. You have my complete attention, though I must warn you that my head is aching quite fiercely." He clasped his hands behind his head, and waited. Marie Victorine surveyed the muscular bare shoulders displayed and smiled. Mingo blushed and shifted position again, pulling the covers up to his neck.

"I wanted to tell you about myself and Baptiste. He and I are from a very old family. We are cousins, many times removed. Our ancestors have been funambulists for hundreds of years. His name is not LeBrun, it is Blondin. My name is not Rousseau. It is Ravel. The Blondin-Ravel family have intermarried and raised generation upon generation of aerialists. We have been rope dancers, tight rope walkers, high rope, slack rope. If it is on a rope in the air, our family has always excelled. Funambulists do not live to old age unless they are very good. My parents were killed when a rope snapped and they fell to the ground. I began walking on a rope a few inches above the ground when I first began to take steps. My parents continued my training until they died. Baptiste's parents adopted me and sent me to a convent to be raised by the holy sisters. I learned fine sewing, a very useful skill in a circus, and to read and write. They expected that I would marry Baptiste when I came of age."

"You said that Baptiste was a wanted man, did you not?" Mingo's head was aching relentlessly. He lay back on the pillow, watching her.

"He killed a man in La Nouvelle-Orléans. Baptiste said the man tried to rob him; he defended himself only. He needed to leave quickly, and I left with him, expecting him to marry me."

"Do you wish to marry him, Mademoiselle?" Mingo's attention was caught, in spite of himself.

"Oui," she blushed prettily. "I have always wished to marry Baptiste. But circumstances, and Monsieur Ricketts have not permitted this."

"How will you solve this problem?" Mingo realized he hadn't made clear which problem he referred to.

"I hope that when we reach New York, we can leave Monsieur Ricketts and go north to Québec and vanish."

Mingo's head was beginning to whirl with both Marie Victorine's heavy perfume and pain. "Why did you think I needed to know this, Mademoiselle?"

"Because Monsieur Ricketts will not allow us to leave him. You will never be allowed to leave him either."

"Daniel will follow," Mingo muttered, as much to himself as to Marie Victorine.

"Who is Daniel, chéri?" Marie Victorine inquired. She looked up from her sewing, concerned. "Monsieur Mingo?"

The Cherokee's eyes were closed in a grimace of pain. His head was spinning and pounding. The jolting wagon, the stuffiness inside, the smell of perfume, the blinding pain in his head, all these factors were too much. He could hear Marie Victorine's voice, but the words were indistinct. Darkness was beckoning, relief from pain. He passed out.

******************

Daniel could have enjoyed the trip through the woods on the elephant's back if it had not been for his abiding worry about Mingo and Tommy. It was almost two weeks since the day of the circus. They were following the tracks made by Ricketts' caravan of circus wagons. Whenever they reached a settlement or a few buildings, it was always the same. Ricketts would have already given a performance, thrilled and astonished the spectators, collected his money and gone on. There never was a report of a giant or an Indian performing. Philip Astley was having a hard time earning any money. The settlers who had given up their shillings and pence so willingly only days before were not willing to pay to see an elephant. Daniel suspected it was not so much unwillingness as simply the lack of ready cash. At any rate, Philip had given up trying to display Old Bet for money, and they traveled by day and night. Daniel knew Philip sensed the urgency, and pushed the elephant along as much as possible.

Daniel questioned Philip one day as they lumbered along. "Thought you said you'd travel only by night, to keep folks from seein' what you wanted to charge them for."

"Oh, H'i did, Daniel. But H'i felt time was of the essence in finding Mingo and your friend, Tommy. H'ordinarily, H'i'd do just that – travel by night, H'i mean. Don't really need the ready, do we? Old Bet's feeding 'erself as we travel, you've been snaring and fishing to feed us. H'i confess, h'it'll be a relief when we finally catch that Ricketts up and beat the stuffing out of 'im!"

"It's been a stretch feedin' us," Daniel admitted. "Old Bet, while she's a heck of a travelin' companion, she's also scared off all the wildlife for ten miles around us. The only thing I've had any luck snarin' are rabbits!"

"You seem preoccupied, Daniel," said Philip. "Would sharing your problems with me 'elp?"

"I thank you for your help, Philip. I am a mite concerned. It's been over a week since we lit out from Boonesborough, and almost a week before that Ricketts' circus was in Boonesborough. Now, you and I both know that Mingo's a smart and resourceful feller. Ricketts would'a had to resort to trickery to take him and the boy, and force to keep 'em. Even that oughtn't to have been enough to keep Mingo a prisoner. It concerns me that we ain't met him comin' back from wherever Ricketts' took 'em. Why ain't we met 'em?"

"Ricketts can be a most unpleasant customer, Daniel. 'E wouldn't scruple to keep them 'ostage h'if need be. The other thing might be that one of them's h'injured, can't h'escape."

"That's what I'm thinkin'," Daniel agreed. "Mingo wouldn't escape without Tommy. But he'da found a way to leave us signs along the way. I don't know if the boy'd have the sense to leave a trail for us. Makes me think it's Mingo who's been hurt somehow.

"Speed and time are doubly important now, then," Philip prodded Old Bet gently, "Faster, my love!"

**************

Tommy was worried and frightened. Marie Victorine came bringing an evening meal of the usual bread and cheese, but Mingo could not be roused. Marie Victorine tried everything she could think of, from damp compresses, to shaking, to shouting, but Mingo did not wake. He simply lay sprawled in the bunk, unmoving. Madame La Beard was summoned. She tried burning feathers under his nose, to no avail. Marie Victorine stood by biting at her nail in agitation. The wagon was too small for Madame La Beard, Marie Victorine and Tommy, so the boy was leaning in the open door.

"How long has he been like this?" asked the bearded woman.

Tommy and Mam'zelle spoke together. "All afternoon!"

Marie Victorine added, "I thought he simply dozed off. I was sitting with him to give Tommee a little fresh air on the wagon's box with Baptiste.""

"Did you rouse him every hour as I told you?"

Marie Victorine and Tommy nodded. "Mam'zelle had me wake him every hour all night. He woke right up every time I shook him! He kept askin' what happened to him."

Marie Victorine added, "He complained of un mauvais mal de tête this afternoon while we spoke. Then he fainted."

"Headache is only to be expected with a blow to the head, Victorine," Madame La Beard assured her. "Disorientation is also common, I believe. Well, let us try the smelling salts." She rummaged in the box she had brought with her and brought out a small phial. She un-stoppered the phial and sniffed it gingerly. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Then she placed it beneath the unconscious Cherokee's nose. His eyelashes flickered, his nose wrinkled, and he coughed. Madame La Beard took the phial away, then held it under his nose a second time. This time, his eyes opened and he regarded the bearded woman with a look of astonishment.

"Who are you?" he said, coughing.

"You know me. I am Martha, Madame La Beard," she answered . She took him by the shoulders and lifted him higher on the pillow.

Mingo shook his head, wincing. "I do not know you."

Marie Victorine busied herself filling a glass with water, which she offered to Mingo. He accepted it, looking at her with confusion. "I do not know you either, Miss."

Marie Victorine and Madame La Beard exchanged dismayed looks. Tommy stuck his head further into the wagon. "Mingo! You're talkin' crazy!"

"'Mingo'?" the Cherokee repeated thoughtfully. "That sounds somewhat familiar." He finished the water, calmly, and looked around him.

"What place is this?" he queried of no one in particular. "What happened to me?" He looked around the wagon, seeming mystified at the unfamiliar surroundings. He looked surprised when he saw Tommy hanging in the open door.

"A woman with a beard, a giant, and a fairy princess," he murmured. "What kind of nightmare have I dreamed?"

"Mingo!" Tommy pleaded. "You know you know me!"

The Cherokee ignored his words, and sank back down on the pillow, as his eyes closed again. His lips were curved in a faint smile.

Over the next few days, it seemed that Mingo had suffered serious damage from his injury. He was calm and quiet, but he remembered nothing of the injury or what had happened before. He complained of his head aching, and slept a great deal, being roused by Marie Victorine or Tommy almost hourly. He suffered from vertigo and nausea. When awakened, he asked each time what had happened, but obviously forgot the explanation immediately. He asked Marie Victorine and Tommy their names each time they woke him, but appeared not to retain that information either

John Bill Ricketts was furious with LeBrun for the damage to the Indian Clown. He cursed him soundly, "That hasty temper of yours! If you have cost me that Indian, I will wring your neck myself! Martha tells me he's lost his memory. If he can't remember how to sing or use that whip, I have lost a splendid act!"

They camped for the night in a clearing by a stream. Ricketts watched from his wagon door as Tommy and Marie Victorine helped Mingo down the steps of the wagon. A blanket was wrapped about his shoulders, since Marie Victorine had not yet finished the promised new shirt. Even from this distance, it was obvious that the Cherokee was in poor health. His footsteps faltered as they guided him to a blanket close to the open fire where the evening meal was cooking. Once seated on the blanket, he flopped limply on his back, one bare arm covering his eyes from the setting sun.

Ricketts decided to investigate the situation. He strolled over to where Tommy, Marie Victorine and Mingo shared the blanket. LeBrun followed along behind. Tommy and Marie Victorine were conversing animatedly, but Mingo lay on the blanket, answering in monosyllables only when spoken to.

Ricketts stopped by the blanket. Marie Victorine and Tommy looked up at him. Tommy's expression was accusatory. Marie Victorine looked angry too. She shot a furious look at LeBrun, who decided that he would rather sit elsewhere, and departed quickly.

"How is the dear fellow coming along?" Ricketts inquired in tones of concern.

"Well, if you don't mind the fact that he ain't sure if he's comin' or goin', the dear fellow's doin' fine." Tommy's tone was sarcastic.

Ricketts ignored the boy's sarcasm. He spoke directly to Mingo. "How do you feel, old chap?" He got no response, so he nudged Mingo with the toe of his boot.

Mingo moved his arm from his eyes and lifted his head. He was not an attractive sight. The bruises on his face had diminished from lurid blue and purple to a sickly yellowish green. The wound in his forehead still looked angry and inflamed. It was obvious even to Ricketts that the Indian was as unwell as he looked.

"Does he mean me?" Mingo inquired listlessly. Tommy nodded, and Mingo complained, "You told me my name was 'Mingo'."

"It is, chéri," Marie Victorine comforted. "Monsieur Ricketts asks how you are feeling today."

"Fine, I think the boy said," Mingo said, without enthusiasm. He returned his arm to his eyes.

Ricketts was at a loss for words. "Does he show any improvement?" he asked them.

"It is still early days, Monsieur Ricketts." Marie Victorine said. "Madame La Beard is certain he will regain all of his memories with time."

"Time," Ricketts repeated in a sour tone. "In the meantime, I have another person to feed who does nothing but require looking after. Tall Trees, how are you finding life in the sideshow?"

Tommy thought for a moment, "It's all right, I guess. It ain't hard, but it ain't interestin' neither. When Mingo gets to feelin' better, I'm lookin' forward to goin' home to Chota."

"You are home with me, boy, for the foreseeable future." Ricketts said sharply. "I will sell your foolish friend here into slavery when we reach New York if you do not perform your duties with enthusiasm, as Martha has instructed you. His poor memory should not affect his capability for hard work. If it hampers him, beating him will no doubt revive his memory." He stomped back in the direction of his wagon without a backwards glance.

Tommy's mouth fell open in shock. Marie Victorine's face did not change expression. As she had told Mingo, the performers in Ricketts' circus did not leave him. All were held captive by their own talent and Ricketts' greed.

The beating of a ladle on a pot announced that the evening meal was ready. The circus people rose from their chairs and blankets and formed a line. Tommy and Marie Victorine joined them. Only Mingo did not move.

**************

When they came to a small hamlet in Virginia, called Prickett's Fort, Daniel busied himself hunting while Philip Astley put on the usual show. During their few weeks together, Daniel had seen the elephant's performance several times. Philip would give a series of commands, Old Bet would lie down, lift one foot, lift her trunk; she could lift logs with her trunk, and carry them to wherever Philip commanded. The commands were given in a mixture of Cockney English and another mysterious language. Philip confessed he had no idea what the words meant, only the results they produced. They had been taught him by the sea captain who sold Old Bet.

The first time Daniel saw Old Bet knock a tree down with her head and carry it where Philip ordered, he commented, laughing, that maybe Philip should leave the circus business, and set himself up building log cabins for settlers. Philip's eyes grew large and speculative. The next time Philip and Old Bet put on a performance, Astley offered to have the elephant knock down trees for ten shillings each. Then he hit upon the brilliant idea of allowing the spectators to ride on Old Bet's back. The elephant was gentle as a dove under Philip's handling. For ten pence each, she gave rides to endless shrieking children, and their fearful parents. The elephant rides increased their income enough that Philip left Old Bet in a stable overnight and let her eat her fill of hay. Daniel was happier sleeping in the stable with the elephant, but Philip sighed, and begged Daniel's indulgence while he slept in the inn in a bed.

It was still about 250 miles to New York; Daniel hoped to travel on the Great Philadelphia Wagon Road through Pennsylvania on the way to New York. He dreaded the number of people they would encounter, but reasoned that it was most likely that Ricketts would take that same route.

They were averaging twenty or so miles a day. It was more difficult to travel in heavily settled areas. When an elephant passed a home or cabin, the inhabitants were apt to run out demanding a performance. Philip Astley was always gracious about performing and showing Old Bet off to her admirers, but Daniel was heartily sick of people. He worried constantly about Mingo and Tommy. The old prickling feelings on the back of his neck were strong as ever.

Whenever the crowds would form, Philip put Old Bet through her paces. Daniel would slide down from the elephant's back and head for the nearest woods. He gave Philip a few hours to satisfy the people, and would return, usually with something he had snared or caught or shot for the evening meal.

One day, as Daniel stravaged back from his wanderings, Philip met him. The man was nearly dancing with excitement.

"Daniel! Daniel!" Philip greeted him exuberantly. "Ricketts was 'ere not two weeks since!"

"That's not really surprisin', Philip," Daniel said mildly. "We know we're catchin' up to him."

"No, no, my dear chap!" Philip said with excitement. "Your H'Indian boy is with 'im!"

Daniel whistled, "You don't say!"

Philip nodded. "'E's billed as 'The Amerindian Gargantua' – Ricketts 'as an ego big as all outdoors!"

"What about Mingo?" Daniel demanded. "Any sign of him?"

"H'i asked h'if there were any other H'Indians in the show, but the settlers said no. Only Tall Trees."

"That's Tommy's given name," Daniel admitted. "Ricketts'd be a fool if he harmed him. I'm gonna assume that Mingo's still with Tommy. I can't figure what Ricketts'd have Mingo doin' – reckon if he ain't performin', it wouldn't be unusual for people not to have seen him."

"Let us keep an optimistic spirit, Daniel," Philip said gravely. "H'i feel certain Kerr – I mean, Mingo – is with them!"

***************

Mingo shifted his position in the small bunk and sighed. He hated being confined, and he especially disliked small spaces. It was hot and stuffy in Marie Victorine's small wagon. He was shirtless and shoeless in deference to the stifling temperature. He wondered idly when he might hope for a breath of fresh air. The inactivity and boredom were difficult to deal with. It was almost a week since LeBrun attacked him. His head ached quite a lot in the first few days, and he had, in reality, suffered some temporary memory loss. His lips quirked in a smile as he remembered waking and facing Madame La Beard, Tommy, and Marie Victorine. It was one of his worst nightmares come to life. The memory loss lasted only one day, but it had given him the perfect opportunity to enact his plan. Why not use the injury for their own benefit, his and Tommy's? He grinned, amused, and he turned on his back, placing his hands beneath his head. The amateur theatricals at Oxford had certainly been useful, Mingo thought. He laughed quietly, thinking of his father's insistence that acting could have no practical purpose in life. His whole time in London had seemed like a farce, a charade.

Ricketts seemed to have given up the idea of his performing as the Indian Clown.

Mingo was careful to maintain a blank look whenever anyone spoke to him. It was a simple matter to ask the same questions over and over. The look of shock every time he saw Madame La Beard was not entirely acting. He still shuddered every time the woman came near him. Marie Victorine had made herself responsible for his care. She brought food to the wagon every day before they began their travels. She looked in at every stop of the circus caravan. It was at her insistence that he was allowed out of the wagon every night if they stopped for their evening meal rather than traveling through the night. LeBrun, the only person who might have seen through his pretense, avoided him at all costs, perhaps because of Marie Victorine's anger. Ricketts too made no effort to speak with him again.

Mingo thought of Tommy ruefully. He had seen less of the boy since his injury. Tommy now spent his time riding with Madame La Beard, who continued to instruct him on sideshow behavior. The boy was expected to exhibit himself in the sideshow whenever they stopped for a performance. A simple stage was erected, a curtain strung on a line. When the audience assembled, the curtain was drawn and the "human oddities" walked, moved, performed simple acts. The boy had no other duties. Mingo wondered how long the repulsive woman thought it took to teach the boy to walk, sit and move.

He did not envy Tommy his proximity to the bearded woman. Though the boy seemed to genuinely like her, Mingo's aversion for Madame La Beard was total. The woman simply made his skin crawl.

Mingo found himself missing the boy's company. It was very quiet and dull in the darkness of the airless wagon throughout the long day. During the time he was able to spend with Tommy, Mingo had to maintain the pretense of simple-mindedness. It was ironic, he thought; when he and Daniel had first met the boy giant, they thought that Tommy was simple-minded. Tommy, though not a genius, had merely been brow-beaten into submission by the evil Billy Baggett, who used the boy for his own sinister purposes. Mingo felt guilt at deceiving him, but Tommy's belief in Mingo's injury would go far toward convincing others.

Marie Victorine looked after him in a manner that was far from her usual flirtatious manner. She seemed to hold herself responsible for Mingo's injury, treating him as an invalid, though he was recovering from the blow to his head. She brought him his evening meal, and sat watching while he ate, chattering mindlessly. The evenings he dozed off on the blanket while listening to Marie Victorine's prattle were not a complete fabrication. Though as dainty as a Dresden figurine, and pretty as could stare, she was also a complete widgeon, Mingo thought sheepishly, remembering his initial attraction to the girl. Perhaps not a complete widgeon, he considered, remembering her dexterity while prancing on the high rope.

He sighed again heavily, and wiped the beads of sweat off his face with the back of his hand. He flopped over on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Where was Daniel Boone? Was he trailing the circus wagons? What in the name of heaven was taking him so long to arrive? Mingo hoped that Daniel would have a plan when he arrived. He could not see any way that he and Tommy could escape from John Bill Ricketts' clutches without assistance. And did they have any responsibility to the rest of the circus denizens to help them escape as well? His head began to throb again. The cut on his forehead had worsened, rather than healing. The pretense of weakness was not entirely pretense. His head ached badly at times, and he was still suffering from vertigo. The only time the dizziness abated was when he lay flat. The steady diet of bread and cheese did not appeal to one nauseated anyway from the lurching of the wagon. His ears rang constantly with the unpleasant tinny sound of bells.

It was almost impossible to judge the passing of time locked in the wagon. The wagon caravan did not follow any set schedule. Some days they traveled by night, all night, setting up before daylight for performances in villages and hamlets. When there were no performances planned, they traveled throughout the day and stopped in the evening. LeBrun handed in bread and cheese and a jug of water at some time each day. He attended to emptying the slop jar provided for Mingo. He never made any attempt to engage the Cherokee in conversation, and Mingo, for his part, was keeping to his pretense of memory loss. It suited his plans down to a cow's thumb to have LeBrun ignore him.

The wagon began to lurch to a halt, and Mingo, who had lost all sense of day or night, wondered what the stop might be for. The lock clicked, the door opened, and faint streams of sunlight entered the dark wagon. Mingo sat up and squinted against the sudden light. He smiled broadly; the guest was Tommy.

"Mingo!" the boy greeted him, smiling. "Feelin' better today?" Tommy's face was puckered with worry as he regarded him.

Mingo felt a sudden pang of guilt for the boy's obvious concern. "It is good to see you, boy," he said simply. "How did you escape from the woman with the beard?"

"'Martha', she says call her," Tommy frowned. "I tell you, Mingo, she's a right strange 'un," Tommy grinned self-consciously as he realized what he had said. "Stranger than just havin' a beard, I mean! She talks so mean sometimes when Ricketts is around, but she's really good to me"

Mingo fought to keep his face expressionless, but Tommy knew him well enough to catch the dancing lights of mischief in his dark eyes. The boy hunkered down on the floor in front of Mingo and put his huge hands on the Cherokee's knees, looking into Mingo's face searchingly.

"You're pullin' a trick on 'em, ain't you, Mingo?" the boy said somberly. "I wish you'd tell me what you're plannin'. I'm scared to death ol' Ricketts is gonna sell you down the river if I put one toe outta line!"

Mingo shook his head wordlessly. But one dark eye closed in a wink. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The elephant was missing. They awoke, as had become their custom, before first light. Daniel fetched water and began to brew a pot of coffee while Philip went in search of his lady.

It was not uncommon for Old Bet to stray a little from where she was chained nightly. As Philip Astley had told Daniel, the chain was not a match for the elephant's strength. The chain was more of a mental restraint than physical, since the elephant believed she could not move further than the chain allowed.

"Daniel!" Philip hastened back to the clearing where they had spent the night. "She's gone! Must've broken 'er chain and wandered off!"

Daniel shook his head, cursing inwardly. "Has she ever done this before, Philip?"

"No, never," averred Philip. "Stays close to 'er papa, does my lady!"

Daniel poured out cups of coffee for them both. "Set yourself down, Philip, while I think for a moment."

"Daniel, we 'ave to find 'er!" As Daniel watched, Philip began to gnaw at his thumbnail.

"Philip," Daniel couldn't help laughing. "How hard do you think it will be to find her? She leaves a trail a blind man could follow. Or smell!"

"Too true, mate," Philip agreed, smiling for the first time since Old Bet's disappearance. "She does leave a distinctive trail!"

"Let's us split up," Daniel suggested. "Sittin' up behind you on the old lady all this time, I reckon I know most of the commands you give her by now!"

Philip nodded his head agreeing. "Yes, Daniel, H'i reckon you could 'andle 'er as well as H'i could do. But why split up? 'Er trail will be obvious to h'anyone looking!"

"You follow the trail – I'll scout on up ahead, circle around like, and maybe catch her before she gets too far ahead. I can make sure there's no trouble waitin' for us."

Philip nodded once more. He gulped down the coffee in his cup, while Daniel kicked dirt on the fire to extinguish it.

"Don't worry, Philip," Daniel assured him, "There ain't no way an elephant can hide herself, even in this wilderness! We'll find her quick enough!"

**************

Daniel paused two hours later, pulled off his coonskin cap, and wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve. The old elephant was more wily than he had given her credit for. He had followed the trail of trampled grasses, broken branches, even a few small trees knocked down by the elephant's giant feet. But there was no sign of the elephant herself. How in tarnation had Old Bet managed to evade both himself and Philip?

He could hear a small stream gurgling a short distance up ahead, and quickened his pace. Perhaps the elephant had paused for a drink. There were indeed giant footprints beside the stream, on both sides, in fact. Old Bet had drunk her fill and continued along her carefree way. Daniel surveyed the signs, and shook his head unhappily. There were also dozens of moccasin prints, probably belonging to the Indians living in the area. He cupped his hands and drank deeply while considering his options.

The rustling of the bushes behind him was the first hint of trouble. Daniel stopped short, listening intently. He felt the barrel of a rifle poke him in the back before he heard any sound.

"Why are you here, white man? This is Lenni Lenape territory." The English was poor, but understandable.

"I am searching for something I have lost," Daniel said mildly. He made no effort to rise to his feet, but lifted his hands in the air, indicating surrender.

"What have you lost, white man? Anything you have lost on our lands now belongs to the Lenni Lenape!"

Daniel looked over his shoulder. There were at least six warriors, all with rifles or bows and arrows pointing at his back. Daniel gestured with his hands, indicating that he wished to stand. The leader of the group, the one who had poked him with the rifle, nodded and agreed that Daniel should stand up.

"I am Daniel Boone," Daniel began, "I have lost a large animal, greater than the mightiest buffalo."

"You lie, white man Boone," retorted the Indian. "There is no animal greater than the buffalo." He made a gesture to another warrior, who stepped forward and yanked Daniel's hands together and began tying them tightly with a length of leather.

"What is your name, my brother?" Daniel asked politely. "I am Sheltowhee, a son of Blackfish, great chief of the Shawnee."

"I am Tamanend," the warrior replied. "You are no brother to me. The sons of Shawnee dogs are of no interest to me. My people are the Lenni Lenape."

"What the white folks call 'Delaware'," Daniel said, nodding. "You're the one called Tammany, ain't you?"

"I am called that," admitted Tamanend. "I am not the first to be honored by the name."

"It must be your pa, then, that I've heard of," Daniel nodded. "Right famous man, ain't he?"

"He is much known among the tribes of this area," agreed Tamanend. "Bring him!"

He cut off the conversation by jerking his fist at Daniel. Daniel was pushed along by the barrels of his captors' rifles, prodded through the woods to a clearing about half a mile from the stream. There were perhaps twenty wigwams in the open space. The wigwams were round in shape, covered with mats made of bull rushes or cattails. Some were covered with bark. Fields could be seen in the distance where it looked as if corn, beans, and squash were growing. Daniel knew that the Delaware Indians' customs were similar to those of Mingo's tribe, the Cherokee. The women farmed and looked after the children, the men hunted or fished. Daniel was surprised by the hostility he was being shown. As far as he had heard, the Delaware people were friendly to whites. He wondered what had happened to change their minds.

He was led to a wigwam in the center of the village, and pushed inside. So far, he had been shown no violence. He was not really surprised to find Philip Astley, bound and gagged, seated inside.

"Philip," Daniel greeted him, smiling. The warrior who had thrust Daniel inside the wigwam pulled out a gag and tied it covering Daniel's mouth. Apparently, they were not supposed to converse.

Philip's eyes were large and round. Daniel figured the Englishman must be frightened almost to death. Daniel tried to convey assurance to Philip with his eyes and eyebrows. The poor fellow was almost witless with fear, Daniel saw. He thought wistfully of Mingo. The Cherokee and he were of such like minds, that he could convey an entire plan to Mingo with the lift of one eyebrow or the wink of an eye.

Philip could not be pacified, so Daniel left off trying. He squirmed around trying to find a comfortable position with his hands tied together behind him. He wiggled, testing his bonds. After a few moments, he abandoned the effort. His bonds were too tight for him to slide his hands beneath his backside, and move his hands in front of him. Daniel reckoned the time of day as just past midday. He sat leaning against the wall of the wigwam, occasionally testing the binding on his wrists. As the day went by, Daniel gave up worrying his bonds, and slumped over on his side, trying to sleep. What would happen, would happen, Daniel thought, resigned. They were not offered food or drink all day. Philip sat silent and unmoving. Daniel couldn't really blame him. Being held captive by Indians probably wasn't Philip's cup of tea, Daniel thought, grinning to himself.

As the day dragged on, Daniel heard the unmistakable trumpeting of Old Bet. She had come in search of them. He could hear the Indians outside the wigwam calling to each other in worried tones. At last, Tamanend himself entered the wigwam and yanked the gag off Daniel's mouth.

"Speak, white man Boone," he commanded. "What is the sound we hear?"

"I didn't hear anything," lied Daniel, "What did it sound like to you?"

Tamanend shrugged, "It is like no beast this one has ever heard! You said you had lost a great beast, bigger even than the mightiest buffalo!"

"Oh, that beast," Daniel said, smiling. "I did lose a large beast this mornin'."

"What does this beast eat? Are the people of my tribe in any danger?" demanded Tamanend.

"Well, she eats whatever she feels like eatin'," Daniel admitted. "You can't rightly tell what she might feel like eatin' on any given day."

"It is a she beast?" questioned Tamanend. "Has the animal young that she defends?"

"I'd suggest you untie my friend, Philip, here," Daniel said in mild tones. "He's known the critter a lot longer than I have. Probably knows a lot more about her, too."

Tamanend yanked Philip to his feet and pulled his gag off. "Speak," he commanded. "Has this mighty beast young that she defends?"

"N-n-no," stuttered Philip. "She h'ain't got any young. H'it's just 'er, 'erself. She wouldn't 'urt . . . Oww!" Daniel stomped on Philip's foot to hush him. Philip's eyes widened, and he tried not to grin.

"Wouldn't hurt – wouldn't hurt what?" Tamanend demanded.

"She wouldn't hurt him or me," Daniel said smoothly. "Philip can call her to him, and make her do his biddin'." Philip stood by Daniel, nodding his agreement.

"What do you bid the beast to do, white man?" asked Tamanend.

Daniel hurried to answer, "Oh, she'll do just about anything Philip asks."

"Why do you not speak for yourself, white man?" asked Tamanend suspiciously. "Does Boone tell the truth?"

"'E speaks the truth," Philip said. "She'll come h'if H'i call 'er." As if she had heard Philip's voice, Old Bet trumpeted again. The sound was closer. The two warriors who accompanied Tamanend looked fearful.

"Then come, white man," said Tamanend. "Call the beast."

They were pulled out of the wigwam by the two Lenni Lenape warriors. It was late afternoon, though the sun was still bright in the sky. Daniel looked at Philip and winked.

Tamanend repeated himself. "Call the beast!"

Philip called, in quavering tones, "Bet! Old Bet! Come here, my love!" There was dead silence. No response from the elephant, nor did she come.

"Call again, white man!" insisted Tamanend. "Prove that you can summon the beast!"

Philip's voice was stronger this time, "Bet!" he called. "Bet! Come here!" The elephant did not appear, and Tamanend was growing angry.

Daniel smiled, "Philip, why don't you let me try?"

Philip shrugged and nodded, surprised. "I'll need my hands free," Daniel said.

One of the warriors drew his knife, and sliced through Daniel's bonds. Daniel put his hands to his mouth and made a whippoorwill's sound. The elephant seemed to respond to the call. She trumpeted loudly. Daniel repeated the whippoorwill call, louder this time.

This time, Old Bet trumpeted again. Daniel could see a tree on the edge of the village knocked down as the elephant approached. Women and children stood watching in slack-jawed amazement, as Old Bet placidly found her way into the village. The Indian warriors scattered in all directions as the elephant approached. The women screamed and ran for hiding places. The children, no different than Israel Boone, were fascinated by the huge animal.

Philip said, "That's a neat trick, that, Daniel!"

Old Bet had grown used to crowds of people on her trip from Boonesborough. She put herself through her paces, lying down on her elbows and knees, standing up again. She lifted her giant foot and smashed a basket of squash and vegetables near an open fire. The elephant then stood next to the basket stuffing the broken vegetables and basket into her mouth with her trunk.

The children of the village crowded around Old Bet, keeping well away from her trunk, giggling and chattering in what Daniel assumed was Lenni Lenape. Their parents were anxiously watching from far away. One tiny naked boy stepped closer and closer to the elephant. The child was too young to be fearful. The child held up his hand and touched the elephant's leg. The rest of the children began to shout what seemed to be warnings. Suddenly the elephant snatched the child up in her trunk and began to lift him high above her head. The child squealed with laughter.

Tamanend and the two warriors with him immediately drew their knives and began to run toward the elephant. Philip gasped in horror.

Daniel ran faster. "Diup, diup, Bet!" he called. Obediently, the elephant lowered her head. Just as Daniel reached her, he shouted, "Lasch! Lasch!" And Bet dropped the child right into Daniel's waiting hands.

Philip collapsed to his knees. Tamanend and the other two warriors stood open-mouthed. Then they sheathed their knives again.

"Release my friend," Daniel ordered as he cradled the child in his arms. "Or I'll give this young'un back to the monster."

Tamanend gestured, and one of the braves cut through Philip's bonds. As soon as Philip was free, the Indian reneged. Tamanend seized Philip and held his knife to his throat.

Just as quickly, Daniel lifted the child and called, "Derri, Bet! Derri!" Instantly the elephant seized the child around the middle.

Daniel folded his arms. "Rangu, Bet! Rangu!" The elephant lifted the child high in the air. "Let him go!" He gestured toward Philip. Tamanend's arms fell away. Daniel beckoned to Philip.

"Come on, Philip. Let's take a little ride away from here!" Philip wobbled toward Daniel and almost fell into his arms. Daniel took Philip's arm firmly. They stepped toward the elephant.

"Down, Bet!" Daniel told her, and Old Bet dropped obediently to her elbows and knees, still tenderly holding the giggling child. "Get on her, Philip," Daniel advised the shaken man. Philip did so, with Daniel boosting him from behind.

"Lasch, Bet!" Daniel called again. The elephant lowered the child into Daniel's waiting arms. Daniel seized Bet's headgear, handed the child up to Philip, and climbed up behind him.

"Up, Bet!" Philip ordered. The elephant rose immediately. "Steh!" Bet froze in her tracks, and Daniel spoke down to the waiting Lenni Lenape.

"Send one of your warriors after us. When we are well away, we will lower the child to him. If he makes any attempt to harm the monster or us, we will tell her to eat the child!"

Tamanend nodded agreement, and Daniel called to the elephant, "Go on, Bet!" and they moved out away from the Indian village.

They traveled about half a mile away before Philip trusted his voice to speak. "Now, Daniel?"

Daniel nodded, patted Philip on the shoulder, and called to Old Bet, "Steh!" She stopped again. Daniel beckoned to the following warrior. When the man was within arms reach, Daniel took the little boy from Philip's arms and carefully dropped the child into the warrior's waiting arms. The warrior headed back to the Lenni Lenape village without a backward glance.

"How much would you have charged one of the settlers for that ride, Philip?" Daniel asked, grinning broadly.

"H'at least a pound!" Philip began to laugh, first with nerves, then with relief. "Eat the baby! Eh, Daniel, H'i never! Eat the baby!" He began to laugh so hard he almost fell off the elephant's back. Only Daniel's quick grab saved Philip. Tears of mirth were rolling down his cheeks. "Eat the baby!" he chortled again.

Daniel grinned and slapped Old Bet's back, and called, "Go on, old girl!"

Philip said, "H'i never realized just 'ow much attention you've been paying, friend Daniel! You gave those ruddy commands as well as H'i ever did! Did you even know what you were saying?"

"Well," Daniel admitted blandly. "There ain't a whole lot of ways of passin' the time settin' up on an elephant's back. I reckoned I'd better pay attention just in case we ever ran into this kind of problem!"

But, Daniel," Philip prodded. "'Ow did you ever teach 'er to come to a bird call?"

"Oh," Daniel admitted modestly, "I've trained my share of animals to come to a whistle. While you've slept in the mornings, I been teachin' Bet a trick or two. She's a right smart critter. Didn't take her long at all to learn to come to a whippoorwill call! Wouldn't surprise me none if it came in a mite handy someday soon!" 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"I knew it!" crowed Tommy. "I knew it!" The lock clicked, and the door opened again.

"Knew what, Tommee?" Marie Victorine asked, as she climbed up the steps into the wagon.

Mingo kicked out and caught Tommy in the leg. His bare foot impacted solidly with the boy's knee, and he yelped in pain. Tommy looked surprised. Mingo scowled at him meaningfully. Understanding dawned on the boy's face, as Mingo pantomimed holding his hand close to his chest.

"What do you know, Tommee?" persisted Marie Victorine. She was carrying a rolled up bundle of clothing under one arm.

"Um," Tommy thought fast. "I, um, figgered that Mingo would be glad to see us." Mingo shot him an exasperated look.

Marie Victorine did not listen to Tommy's lame explanation, however. "How nice," she said briskly, and shook out the bundle she was carrying. "You are feeling better today, chéri?" she inquired of Mingo.

Before Mingo could speak, Tommy blurted, "Yes, he's feelin' better today, Mam'zelle."

"Bon, bon," Marie Victorine's mind was clearly on the garment in her hands. "This is the shirt I promised you, chéri." She held up a sleeveless jerkin, made out of linsey-woolsey. "It is not like the one you had when you came to us, mon cher, but it is as like as I could make it. It is very hot in this wagon, non?"

"It is very hot, oui," agreed Mingo, discreetly wiping sweat off his face with the back of his hand.

Tommy cut in, "It's awful hot in here, ain't it, Mam'zelle? You reckon Mingo could ride on the box for a spell? He'd probably feel better for a breath of air, don't you think?"

Marie Victorine paused in her bustling and took a good look at the Cherokee. Even to her inexperienced eyes, he looked pale and unwell. The bruises on his face were fading. The long cut on his forehead should have healed . Still, she thought, he ought to look healthier than he did.

"Oui, Tommee, I think Monsieur Mingo could do with some fresh air and sunlight. I will ask it of Monsieur Ricketts." She smiled suddenly, as Mingo remembered his bare chest, and blushed. He crossed his arms in front of him, trying to cover up as much bare skin as possible. Marie Victorine's smile grew wider.

"Try on the shirt I have made for you," she said, handing it over. "I do hope it fits!"

Mingo hoped so too. He pulled it over his head. The shirt stuck slightly to his damp body, but it was an excellent fit.

Marie Victorine stood, smiling, watching. She reached into a deep pocket in her skirt, and held forth something else.

"Madame La Beard kept these for you," Marie Victorine said, handing them over. They were Mingo's own necklace, armlet and wristband. "You recognize them?"

Mingo nodded, saying nothing. He began to tie the necklace around his neck, and replaced the armlet and wristband.

"Très beau!" exclaimed Marie Victorine. "Now you look like un Indien sauvage!"

There was another knock on the wagon door. LeBrun opened the door. He surveyed Mingo and Tommy without enthusiasm. He scowled at them both, before speaking to Marie Victorine.

"We make a long stop now. Monsieur Ricketts wishes to rest the animals. There will be a performance tomorrow. Bring vos amis Indiens. I am to guard the Clown Indien. He may join you under the trees. We are to pique-nique there."

Tommy crept toward the door of the wagon on hands and knees. Mingo pulled on his moccasins and rose. As he did, he staggered slightly as the inside of the wagon seemed to spin. He sat down suddenly on the bunk, while the world swirled around him.

"Are you ill, chéri?" Marie Victorine said, concerned.

"No, only a bit of light-headedness, Mademoiselle," Mingo said.

"Take him outside where he can breathe, Baptiste!" commanded Marie Victorine.

LeBrun seized Mingo's arm and dragged it over his shoulder. In truth, Mingo was grateful for the support. Tommy had paused and looked back over his shoulder, open-mouthed.

LeBrun guided Mingo down the wagon's steps, following Tommy to the trees. Fresh air revived him somewhat, and LeBrun helped him to slump to the ground on the blanket Marie Victorine spread, his back against a tree.

LeBrun stood over him, hands on hips, scowling. "Something is wrong, Victorine," he frowned. He bent and touched the back of his finger to Mingo's face. "L'Indien is ill. Go and get Madame La Beard," he directed Marie Victorine. "I will stay with these two." He pulled his gun from his waistband and gestured toward Tommy and Mingo, who sat, eyes closed and unmoving.

Madame La Beard came hurrying up, followed closely by Marie Victorine. "Which Indian is ill?" she demanded, looking first at Mingo, then at Tommy. LeBrun pointed to Mingo.

"I wonder if you are worth the trouble you have caused," Madame La Beard tsked.

She touched the bandage wrapped around Mingo's forehead and gently removed it. Mingo winced. The wound had not healed properly. It was puffy and red, and oozing slightly. Madame La Beard looked at Marie Victorine and frowned.

"You were supposed to look after this fellow, my dear," she chided. "Changed the bandage daily?"

Marie Victorine flushed. "I did, Madame. I did not think . . ."

"No, of course you didn't think!" Madame La Beard's tone was mild, though her words were sharp. She patted Marie Victorine's arm. "I'm sorry if I was harsh, Victorine. I know you meant well. This stubborn Indian. . . !"

She examined the cut in Mingo's forehead closely. "I do not think it needs to be stitched again. But it does look septic. These stitches must be removed." She turned to LeBrun. "Baptiste, go to my wagon and fetch my medicine box. Fetch the bottle of spirits, and the jar of honey."

She spoke next to Victorine. "Go and put a kettle of water on to boil, please, Victorine.".

She turned to Tommy. "Tommy, help me take your friend back to the wagon."

Tommy reached for Mingo, but he spoke, surprising them. "No, please, not the  
wagon -"

"He ain't real fond of close places, Miss Martha," Tommy offered. "Can't he stay here under the trees for now?"

Help came unexpectedly when LeBrun spoke up, "Madame, I think the Indien would fare better here than in the wagon," LeBrun brought the box of medicines. "I think the sauvage is ill from being kept inside. It is against the nature of les Indiens to be so much confined."

Mingo's head came up. He looked at LeBrun with surprise. LeBrun avoided Mingo's eyes.

"Perhaps you are right, Baptiste," Madame La Beard admitted. She turned to Marie Victorine who had returned with a kettle of boiling water and a basin.

"Your hands are steadier than mine, Victorine. Take the pincers and your scissors, and pour the boiling water over them. When they are clean, you may begin to pull out the stitches."

The bearded woman busied herself with an herbal remedy, dumping some powder into a cup and pouring water in as well. She set it aside to steep.

Marie Victorine's hands trembled but she did as she was told. Mingo grimaced as the girl snipped and plucked each stitch from the infected cut on his forehead. Each gentle tug made the cut ooze and bleed more. She finished by swabbing with spirits daubed on a cloth which made him wince. When the last stitch was out, Madame La Beard opened the honey.

"Miss Martha, what're you thinkin'?" Tommy blurted. "It's that cut on his head mortifyin' makin' him sick!"

"Honey has remarkable healing properties, Tall Trees," she responded. "Hold his hair out of the way."

Marie Victorine gently pushed Mingo's fringe out of the way while Madame La Beard worked. The bearded woman pulled a clean pad of cloth out of her medicine box, slathered it liberally with the honey and applied it to the Cherokee's head. When she was satisfied with its position, she began to tie it in place with more bandaging. Then she stood back, looking critically at her handiwork.

"I am sorry, chéri,"whispered Marie Victorine.

Madame La Beard handed the cup of medicine to Mingo, and indicated that he should drink it. The Cherokee's lips tightened. Silently, Mingo shook his head no. He would ingest nothing the bearded woman's hands touched. He politely sat the untouched cup as far from him as possible.

John Bill Ricketts came hurrying up, radiating anger. "What trouble has this Indian caused now?" he barked.

"It is my fault, Monsieur Ricketts," Marie Victorine said, "The wound I stitched became septic. L'Indien is ill."

"Had I not struck him, none of this would have happened," LeBrun spoke up. "The fault is mine."

Tommy's mouth fell open. "Well, it ain't my fault, nor Mingo's neither!" he blurted.

"It is quite touching, Martha, how they defend each other," sneered Ricketts. "What do you suggest? How seriously ill is the Indian?"

"It is as Victorine says. I suspect he's feeling rather poorly. The foolish fellow refuses to drink the medicine I infused for fever, though."

"Look here, Indian," said Ricketts. "Your stubborn refusal to let Martha help you does your case no good!" He was so angry, he was nearly sputtering with rage. "Put the Indians back in their wagon!"

Mingo's lips twitched in amusement, but he merely shook his head again negatively.

Tommy and LeBrun spoke simultaneously.

"Can't he stay outside, Mr. Ricketts? He don't like bein' cooped up," began Tommy.

"I shall guard him, Monsieur," LeBrun said. "I can do so as easily here as I do every day outside the wagon."

"I don't give a tinker's damn what he likes or doesn't!" snapped Ricketts.

Mingo gazed up at him steadily. Ricketts' eyes dropped first.

Ricketts snapped, "Fine! Baptiste, make sure the Indians are back in the wagon by nightfall!"

He stomped off angrily with Madame La Beard. Their heads were close together and they were discussing something in low tones. Mingo leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes. He did feel ill.

Marie Victorine stood, arms akimbo, frowning. She seized the cup of infusion and knelt beside the Cherokee. "Please, chéri," she coaxed. "I know why you dislike Madame La Beard, but I will take the first sip."

Mingo's eyes opened. They were dancing with mischief in spite of his fever. He gestured toward the cup, "After you, Mademoiselle."

Marie Victorine made a moue of reluctance, and took a tiny sip. She grimaced in disgust.

Mingo smiled, and shook his head. "Not enough. More."

She frowned and took a larger sip. She gagged. Tommy laughed out loud, and LeBrun, surprising them all, smiled broadly. Marie Victorine gave Mingo a determined glare. He sighed, accepted the cup and took a cautious sip. It tasted dreadful. Mingo gave an involuntary shudder, and drank, making a wry face.

It took a few minutes before the brew took its effect. The Cherokee slumped back against the tree, deeply asleep.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est? What did that witch give him this time?" demanded LeBrun. "She will not be content until she has killed another with her evil potions!"

"Baptiste!" hissed Marie Victorine, "We should not speak of these things! Madame La Beard is not a witch! You know what really happened; you know the truth!"

Tommy's eyes grew large, "Miss Martha's a killer?" he whispered.

"Non, not a killer," Marie Victorine assured him quickly. "It was an accident . . ."

Baptiste snorted in disgust. "An accident! It was an accident the boy nearly choked. An accident l'Indien nearly died from the poppy tea! L'imbécile is a wise man. He takes nothing from La Beard's hands!"

He turned to Tommy, "You, boy, would be wise to imitate Monsieur Mingo! Be vigilant when you are with La Beard. I will look after this one," he gestured toward the sleeping Indian. "Victorine, you must be on guard around her too. You know she is Ricketts' creature."

Marie Victorine leaned in close to Le Brun, "Oui, mon amour," she gave him a lingering kiss.

Tommy sighed as if his heart were broken. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

To Daniel's immense relief, Philip Astley and Old Bet suffered no lingering effects from their adventure with the Lenni Lenape.

They continued on their way until they had placed at least five miles between themselves and the Indian village before making camp for the night. Philip took great pains to make sure that Old Bet was securely chained before bedding down himself. Daniel made doubly sure, checking for himself.

During the late afternoon and early evening, Philip could often be heard chuckling, "Eat the baby! H'i never!"

Daniel snared and skinned a rabbit for their evening meal. Old Bet blissfully stripped the leaves off the tree she was chained to. Philip had managed at last to learn how to build a fire with a flint and steel, and had brought a large pile of wood for the fire.

When the rabbit was cooked, and the two had eaten their fill, Philip pulled a pipe from nowhere and stuffed it full of tobacco. He lit it with a twig from the fire and settled back comfortably. Daniel decided there was no time like the present.

"Reckon I won't ask how you managed to find the Delaware," Daniel began drily.

"H'i was minding my own business, calling for Bet . . ." the Englishman began.

"Philip," Daniel shook his head, "an animal the size of Bet leaves a trail a blind man or a fool could foller. There ain't no need for you to go traipsin' through the woods singin' out – you're lucky it was Delaware that caught us. The Delaware're more tolerant of white settlers, as a rule. If'n it'd been Shawnee, you might be missin' your hair. And your elephant!"

Philip shifted in his place uneasily. Daniel decided to throw him a crumb, "You ain't done badly. You managed to make it from Salem to Boonesborough all alone. I reckon we ain't more than a couple, two or three days behind Ricketts and his people. You reckon you're ready to tell me the real reason you're tailin' him? Aside from helpin' me rescue Mingo and Tommy, I mean? It worked out real nice for you that I was goin' your way, anyway, didn't it?"

Philip began to speak, "Friend Daniel . . ."

But Daniel hadn't finished speaking his piece, "That was a real interestin' story you told me about your ring, and how Ricketts stole your act. I've a feelin' there's more to it than that, though."

"H'it's true about my ring," Philip blustered. "You're right enough, though, Daniel; Ricketts stole my 'ole circus!"

Daniel smiled a grim smile, "Thought so. I've always heard confession is good for the soul, Philip. What say you go ahead and start talkin'?"

Philip looked at Daniel for a long moment. "Known Ricketts for quite a while. Most of what 'e knows, 'e learned from my school in Lambeth. H'ive been lucky, H'i 'ave. Found a diamond ring on London Bridge worth 60 pounds. Sold h'it and bought one of my first 'orses. Did a favor for King George. 'E gave me 100 pounds too. My dear wife Patsy and H'i began 'Aypenny 'Atch on that 'undred quid. Started out giving lessons in the mornings, and shows in the h'afternoon. That's where H'i met your friend Mingo. 'E was just a schoolboy, 'im and 'is classmates, sneaking away from Oxford. Some folks, friend Daniel, learn to ride. H'others are just born knowing 'ow. H'i reckon H'im one of them. Ricketts h'is another. Mingo's one of 'em. Took to h'it like a duck takes to swimming. Didn't care about showing off, just loved riding for h'its own sake. Ricketts, though, was born an ambitious coxcomb. 'E'd like to think 'e's the best in the world. A case of the student surpassing the master." He grinned suddenly. "'E'll never be better than me; h'it's more than talent that makes a fellow great."

Daniel nodded. He understood completely what Philip meant. Ricketts' performance was great, but mechanical, without heart. Daniel was looking forward to seeing what Astley might be capable of.

"There's more to your tale," Daniel prodded.

"Right. H'i 'ad plans to pick up some performers in New Orleans. Then H'i 'eard about Old Bet being offered for sale in Salem. H'elephants ain't easy to come by, friend Daniel. H'i decided then and there, that H'i'd better get off the ship in Salem and see for myself. Ricketts was supposed to 'elp me get a show started 'ere in the Colonies. Perhaps when 'e got to New Orleans, 'e thought h'it was as good a time as any to go h'into business for 'imself! With my performers!"

"You said he was kin to General Washington," Daniel reminded Philip. "I don't reckon the general'd cotton to any of his kinfolks lowerin' theirselves to kidnappin' and skulduggery."

"H'it's a very distant connection," Philip assured him. "Per'aps after this, your general will make h'it even more distant!"

Daniel laughed, and Philip continued, "As H'i told you, Ricketts was a student of ours in Lambeth. We'd discussed setting up an H'American circus together. Been communicating with these aerialists h'in New Orleans for months. Well, they needed to leave New Orleans quickly. H'i never did learn why – but they didn't want to wait for us to arrive from Salem h'overland with Bet, so Ricketts went ahead. 'Eard rumors floating around that 'e'd pulled a fast one – when we came to Boonesborough, H'i did want to see Kerr - that part was true - but you confirmed for me that h'it wasn't just rumors H'i'd been 'earin'. So now, Daniel, Ricketts 'as my circus, and Mingo and the boy giant. 'E 'olds all the cards."

Daniel smiled humorlessly, "I ain't a card playin' man, Philip, but I reckon I've got an ace or two up my sleeve."

It was very late when Mingo awoke. The dark night sky was full of stars, and for a moment he was unsure of exactly where he was and how he came to be leaning up against a tree. He sat staring up at the sky, trying to get his bearings. A tiny flame flared up from the bowl of the pipe his companion smoked.

LeBrun spoke, "So the witch did not poison you, mon ami. You are feeling better?"

Mingo nodded warily. He did feel better. "Where is the boy?"

"He wears his heart upon his sleeve, that one," LeBrun astonished Mingo again by smiling broadly. "He is eating the evening meal in the company of La Beard, and Victorine. He is quite well. La Beard has a soft spot for him. And he has a warm heart for Victorine."

LeBrun rose to his feet, went to the still-burning fire, and came back with a bowl of food, which he handed to Mingo. "You think you can eat?"

Mingo nodded again, and accepted the bowl with thanks. LeBrun pulled a spoon out of his coat pocket and passed it over.

"La Beard has left instructions that you are to take more of her witch's brew when you retire. Ricketts has ordered that you and the boy must be locked back in the wagon. I find that I am not of a mind to enforce foolish rules tonight."

Mingo took a bite of stew, and chewed before answering. "I appreciate your restraint, Baptiste. May I call you that?"

LeBrun nodded, "'Baptiste' is fine. I do not have the heart to force a child of nature into such a small, hot space. Especially when you have suffered already at my hands."

Mingo looked surprised, and LeBrun shrugged. "It was an unfair blow and I am sorry for it. I do not doubt, Monsieur Mingo, that you could make mincemeat of Baptiste LeBrun had you the mind to. It is important that I appear to be Monsieur Ricketts' loyal man. As long as you continue to play l'imbécile, you are safe from his plans for you."

Mingo's chagrin at being caught out showed plainly on his face, and LeBrun grinned again. "You are a very good actor, mon ami. Victorine does not suspect you, nor does La Beard. Ricketts is too conceited to notice anyone but himself. Besides, I think you were almost as ill as you pretended to be."

LeBrun sat quietly, smoking his pipe, saying no more until Mingo had finished the stew. He rose quickly to his feet, and extended a hand to assist Mingo to his feet. "Walk with me, Monsieur Mingo. I did not like to wake you while you slept, but if Ricketts sees us talking, he will wonder why I have not locked you back in the wagon. Wrap the blanket around your shoulders. The air is chill."

Mingo staggered as he walked, and LeBrun put an arm around his waist to steady him, "You are not so healthy as you would wish. You still have the fever, I think."

The man's arm was like iron, Mingo noted. His steps were steadier; he did feel better after the long rest and some food. LeBrun led him quickly into the woods away from the encampment. They walked for perhaps five minutes deeper into the woods. A small brook could be heard gurgling and LeBrun led him to it. He helped Mingo lower himself to the ground near the water.

LeBrun spoke, "As long you are not seen, Monsieur Ricketts will believe you are safely locked in Victorine's wagon. You would not mind sleeping the night away under the stars? I am to guard you – it makes no difference to me whether you are confined or not. I do not think you are in the condition to overpower me and escape. And the boy is still with La Beard."

Mingo splashed water onto his face, and dried it on the corner of the blanket before speaking. "What do you wish to discuss with me, Baptiste?"

"I believe Victorine told you something of our circumstances?" LeBrun began. Mingo nodded, and the man continued, "It is true: I did kill a man in New Orleans. Did you know, mon ami, that La Nouvelle-Orléans is renowned for its gambling?"

Mingo nodded again, and LeBrun continued, "I engaged in what I thought was an honest game of chance, only to become the dupe of a charlatan. He drew a gun. I struck a blow to defend myself only; when he fell, he hit his head and died."

Mingo settled his back comfortably against a tree. "How did you end up with Ricketts? I believe Mademoiselle Rousseau told me, but I do not remember."

"An Englishman, Philip Astley," Mingo's eyes widened here, and LeBrun continued speaking, "knew of our funambule families. Victorine and I were supposed to join him in his new circus in the Colonies. I needed to leave New Orleans quickly, and Victorine wanted to go with me. Monsieur Ricketts told us that he was the emissary for Monsieur Astley, and that he would take us to meet him. Ricketts is not an honorable man, mon ami. He soon discovered just why I was in such haste to leave so quickly. He has since used that against us, holding Victorine and me against our will. He threatens to have me thrown in gaol. He finds the weakness in everyone and uses it to hold them hostage. La Beard fancies herself a healer; she killed someone with her witch's brews. He threatens the boy, Tommy, that he will sell you, Monsieur Mingo, into slavery if the boy tries to leave. He knows you will not leave without the boy. Ricketts does not intend to join Astley. He will mount his own circus with Monsieur Astley's troupe as performers"

Mingo fiddled with a pile of small stones and twigs while he listened to LeBrun's narration. He casually turned the stones this way and that, finally piling them into a small cairn. LeBrun paid no attention.

The air was growing chill. Mingo wrapped the blanket more tightly around him. "What do you think I can accomplish, Baptiste, that you have not been able to do?"

LeBrun smiled suddenly. "The boy has been riding with me on the box while Victorine has tended to you. He prattles of 'Mr. Boone'. You, mon ami, murmur of 'Daniel' in your delirium. Victorine and I have put our heads together. The two of you speak of the great Daniel Boone, do you not? You sat on the blanket of Boone when we performed in Boonesborough. You are his great friend, non?"

"Daniel is my friend," admitted Mingo. He was not prepared for LeBrun's reaction to his words. LeBrun seized him by the shoulders and shook him happily.

"Do you not see? The great Daniel Boone will come for you and the boy. We shall all be rescued!" 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Philip was relieved that Daniel gave no hint of being angry with him for his deceit. They continued on their way as always, but with a subtle difference. Daniel had taken charge of chaining the elephant, Old Bet, at night. As they ambled along during the day, Daniel occasionally called out a command to her.

When questioned, Daniel had simply smiled his lop-sided smile. "Philip, you already seen that my knowin' some elephant talk came in right handy with the Delaware. Never can tell what might happen but that I'd need to know your old lady'd mind me again."

The weather continued glorious – hot, sunny days, and cool nights. As they moved closer to Ricketts and his stolen circus, there were more sightings. Ricketts had paused here for two days, or there to spend a night. They were moving more slowly, and more of the settlers Daniel and Philip questioned remarked on the handsome, very young Indian giant, Tall Trees.

The settlers talked about the beautiful, tiny tightrope walker, and the handsome but surly man who performed with her. There was the frightening candy butcher, who wore male clothing and had a lush beard, but spoke in the voice of a woman. This person sold lemonade, marchpane, and jumbals just as in Boonesborough, but had made more of an impression for her appearance than for the sweets sold. Ricketts and his wonderful horse, Cornplanter, were talked about everywhere.

Never was any mention made of another Indian performer.

Philip wondered at Daniel's calm. It did not seem to trouble him that no one had seen Mingo at any of the circus's performances. Daniel also seemed to have lost interest in traveling as quickly as they had been moving. There were days when the big Kentuckian called for a stop early in the afternoon, and spent the rest of the day hunting or exploring the surrounding woods, always returning with game or fish for the evening meal.

They were riding along when Daniel called to the elephant, "Steh, Bet!"

The elephant stopped obediently, Daniel slid down from her back and walked to a small gurgling brook. He cupped his hands and drank deeply. Bet seized the opportunity to fill her trunk and squirt water over her back, drenching Philip in the process.

Philip shouted, "Oi, Bet!" and slid down from the elephant's back too, grumbling loudly.

"What's that you're staring at, friend Daniel?" Philip said as he joined him by the brook.

"Mingo's left us a sign, finally. Mighty obligin' of him!" Daniel said, grinning his relief.

"A sign? Where?" Philip looked around as if he expected a signpost in the wilderness, advertising Mingo's direction.

"This here pile of stones," Daniel indicated the little cairn of stones at his feet. "It ain't been hard followin' the circus, but it's sure good to know that Mingo's alive, and that he's gonna be waitin' and watchin' for a signal from us."

Philip looked mystified, "All that from one pile of stones?"

Daniel laughed, "Yep. Now, let's go find him and give him a hand."

***************

LeBrun was as good as his word. Just before daylight, he woke the Cherokee from his slumber under the trees, helped him to his feet, and led him back to the encampment, where no one was stirring. LeBrun guided him up the steps of Marie Victorine's wagon. It was empty. Mingo wondered where Tommy might be.

LeBrun read his mind, "Victorine took him to the Skeleton Man. Monsieur Os suffers from the insomnie. The boy slept under his wagon in the air, while Os kept watch. Monsieur Ricketts has a performance scheduled for today. The boy will spend the time with La Beard until it is time for the show."

He winked at Mingo, "Monsieur Os has no regard for Ricketts. He will aid us in any way he can."

Mingo sat down on the bunk heavily, tired from the walk back from the woods. He did feel better. His head was clearer, aching less than the day before. He touched the bandage on his forehead. His hand came away sticky with honey.

LeBrun gestured in apology, "I regret, mon ami. I must lock the wagon. Ricketts must not suspect anything. I will bring you petit déjeuner, and coffee."

Within minutes, LeBrun was back with a pot of coffee and more of the endless bread and cheese. He poured a cup of coffee, handed it to Mingo, then bustled off again. He returned quickly with a bucket of steaming water. He fished a cake of soap out of his pocket and passed it over, pulled a clean towel out of another pocket.

His voice changed suddenly to a harsh tone, and he shouted, "Cleanse yourself, filthy sauvage! You disgust me!"

Mingo looked up, surprised, to see John Bill Ricketts climbing up the steps into the small wagon. With him was Madame La Beard.

Ricketts shot LeBrun an evil glance, "Keep your temper to yourself, Baptiste. I will not warn you again. Martha, what do you think?"

She reached for Mingo, who shuddered away from her touch. The bearded woman gently pulled the sticky bandage off his forehead, and felt his brow for fever before responding.

"The wound looks much improved today, Mr. Ricketts. Cosmetics would cover up the last of the bruising. The fever is almost gone. I wouldn't expect him to sing or use his bullwhip, but he could certainly assist young Tall Trees in a performance."

Mingo carefully kept his face expressionless. Performance? What was Ricketts planning now? He glanced at LeBrun out of the corner of his eye. LeBrun's eyes widened, and he shrugged slightly. He clearly had no idea what was going on either.

Madame La Beard pulled more bandaging out of her pocket. She plunged a cloth into the steaming water and impersonally began to scrub Mingo's face as if he were an unruly child. Mingo's face flushed scarlet. While Ricketts stood by smirking, she spread honey from the jar she carried on a clean bandage, and tied it in place around Mingo's forehead.

It was with difficulty that Mingo controlled his temper and tongue. He was breathing heavily.

"Madame La Beard, Monsieur Ricketts," LeBrun hurried to intercede, "I will make sure l'Indien is ready for the performance with Tall Trees." His hand moved meaningfully to the pistol he wore in his belt.

"Very well, Baptiste," Ricketts grinned nastily. "Our Indian Clown will take his place in this afternoon's show. This is a fairly large settlement - we should do very well. Martha, you have the refreshments ready?"

Mingo's heart and head were pounding with anger as Ricketts and the bearded woman left the wagon. His face was almost white with fury.

"Calm yourself, mon ami," LeBrun said quietly. "Do not give yourself away. We must bide our time while we wait for Daniel Boone."

Mingo nodded silently, his face grim. LeBrun placed the bucket on the floor in front of Mingo and patted his knee. "I will find out what I can, Monsieur Mingo."

***************

Daniel pulled a spyglass from his haversack, and tucked it into his belt.

"Philip," Daniel said quietly, "Let's make sure Bet is securely chained while you and I do a little reconnoiterin'. Be certain she can't bust the chain and get herself loose again."

Philip nodded, and Daniel led the way. The sun was high in the sky, the time about mid-afternoon. After about a mile they came upon a clearing outside a large settlement. In that clearing, Ricketts' circus was set up and midway through its performance, if Daniel remembered correctly from the show put on in Boonesborough. They kept to the trees around the clearing, hoping to avoid notice by any of the settlers or circus performers. Unfortunately, this also meant that neither Daniel or Philip could see any of what was happening. Daniel climbed a tree and perched himself in a crook about 15 feet up. From this vantage point, he could see clearly. He lifted the spyglass to his eye and waited.

John Bill Ricketts was putting Cornplanter through his usual paces. They could hear the shouts and applause of the crowd. Next came the funambulists, just as they had done in Boonesborough. Daniel peered through the spyglass watching the performance. He could see Mademoiselle Rousseau in her pink spangled dress, LeBrun in the same green satin costume he had worn in Boonesborough. The dog and pony show came next. The yapping of the dogs could be heard as far as the woods around the clearing.

"Can you see h'anything, friend Daniel?" Philip squinted against the sun as he called up to Daniel.

Daniel waved a hand to hush him and answered. "He's puttin' on the same performance they did in Boonesborough. Reckon he don't mix the acts up, Philip?"

"No, there wouldn't be any need to change the performance schedule," Philip agreed. "H'it's what H'i'd do myself. Can you see -" Philip stopped uncertainly. Daniel was peering intently at the clearing.

Daniel stiffened suddenly, "Work your way up here, Philip," he insisted. "Give me your hand."

Philip climbed up into the tree beside Daniel quickly. Daniel handed the spyglass over. "Look yonder, Philip," he advised. His voice was grim. The shouts had grown in intensity.

Philip peered through the spyglass intently. "Thundering 'eaven!" he breathed.

"What in tarnation does Ricketts think he's doin'? Tryin' to kill him?" Daniel demanded.

In the clearing, the ringmaster dwarf was announcing the next act.

"In his first American performance," the dwarf shouted, "the Amerindian Gargantua, Tall Trees! Tall Trees, the boy giant is only TEN years old! TEN FEET TALL! The child will attempt to shoot a target off the head of the INDIAN CLOWN! This trick has NEVER BEFORE been attempted. It is a Colonial REENACTMENT of the renowned story of WILLIAM TELL, the FAMOUS Swiss ARCHER of LEGEND!"

Tommy was nervous. So nervous that he thought he might be sick. Up until this time, he had done nothing more than stand upon a stage in front of the circus-goers and move around, just as he did in everyday life. He had never attempted to shoot a target off a living person, had never shot an arrow at a person before until it had been necessary for him to kill Billy Baggett in order to save Mingo and Daniel.

He had not known what was happening until an hour or so before the performance. Marie Victorine had been in tears, wringing her hands as usual and pleading. LeBrun had been silent, though his anger too had been apparent. John Bill Ricketts had been almost gleeful as he rubbed his hands together and told Tommy of his plans.

"Well, Tall Trees," Ricketts said in his customary sneering tone, "Martha and I have been discussing your future, and that of your worthless friend. We have decided that since Mingo-" Ricketts' lip curled as he uttered the name, "has not been able to earn his keep by singing and using that bullwhip as I had planned for him to do, he can join you in your new act."

"My new act?" Tommy stammered. "I ain't got any act, Mr. Ricketts. I'm a 'human oddity'."

"Today, boy," Ricketts drawled, "You will have an opportunity to show me why I should not sell your friend into slavery when we arrive in New York. Have you ever heard the story of William Tell, boy? The famous archer who shot an apple off his son's head?" Tommy shook his head furiously.

"No, sir, I ain't never heard that tale. I don't know how to use a rifle, sir. I ain't never shot one! I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!"

"Who said anything about a rifle?" asked Ricketts smoothly. "You are an Indian. You will use a bow and arrow!"

Tommy heard the dwarf shout his name, and felt his heart sink.

LeBrun put his head around the curtain and hissed. "It is time, Tommy! Do not anger Ricketts!" He glanced at the boy's stricken face, and softened his words. "Monsieur Mingo is ready. He is not afraid. Courage, mon ami! All will be well!"

Tommy swallowed, and let LeBrun lead him to the ring. The crowd rose to their feet and began to cheer. Tommy saw what roused their enthusiasm, and his steps faltered.

Two of the hostlers who handled the horses were dragging a struggling Mingo from Marie Victorine's wagon. Dressed in the breechcloth and leggings he had heretofore refused to wear, Mingo was bare-chested, his body daubed with what was supposed to be war paint. The paint covered the worst of the bruises on his face. The proud Cherokee's face had been painted as a clown. With a shock, Tommy realized that the red "paint" on Mingo's face was actually blood. The bandage around his forehead had a few feathers stuffed in it giving him a buffoonish appearance.

Tommy watched as Mingo pulled free from the two hostlers dragging him toward the middle of the performance area. He drew himself up, and walked proudly to the post where LeBrun was waiting. LeBrun exchanged a few words with Mingo that Tommy couldn't hear. Mingo smiled and allowed LeBrun to tie him to the post. He shook his head at the blindfold LeBrun offered. In all his weeks with the circus, Tommy had never seen anyone look less foolish or more dignified.

Marie Victorine came running from behind the wagon nearest the clearing. She pulled Tommy's head down, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and whispered. "You can do this, chéri." She hurried over to the Cherokee, curtsied to him and the audience, and placed an apple squarely on his head.

LeBrun strolled toward Tommy carrying his bow and a quiver of a few arrows. The boy's knees were shaking with panic and fear as LeBrun came near him.

Tommy's voice shook, "Baptiste, I can't-"

LeBrun's answer was fierce. "You must. Monsieur Mingo says to me, he has no worries. He tells me to remind you that you can and will do what you must."

LeBrun took Tommy's arm, and spoke in a low tone as they walked. "Monsieur Ricketts says you must be at least 20 paces away — your paces, not mine, Tommy-"

Tommy took the bow and an arrow from LeBrun's hand. "Bow, Tommy, to your audience," LeBrun coached him, "Show them you are not afraid."

Tommy did as Baptiste directed. He lined the arrow up on the nock of the bow, took a deep breath, counted silently to three and let fly. 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

At the roar of the crowd, Daniel snatched the spyglass away from Philip. Daniel winced and groaned.

"What's 'appened?" Philip demanded.

"He hit Mingo," Daniel said, gazing intently through the spyglass. "Wait, I don't think it's too bad. He's still standing, any road."

Philip snatched the spyglass back, to see for himself. "Bloody 'ell!" he swore, "'Ow bad is not too bad?" He spat, "Of course 'e's standing, Daniel! They've got 'im tied to a ruddy post! They've painted 'im up like an 'eathen!"

Daniel grabbed the glass again, "How in tarnation did I miss that?" He added grimly, "That ain't paint, Philip, it's blood."

In the far distance, he could now see, Mingo's head was drooping, his knees sagging. The arrow was protruding from the fleshy part of his upper right arm. The apple had fallen from his head. As Daniel watched, Mingo's head came up, and he regained his feet. The crowd went wild, cheering their enthusiasm. The boy Tommy was shaking his head vehemently, refusing to continue. Ricketts came running out from behind a wagon. He grabbed the front of the boy's shirt and shook a fist in Tommy's face. One of Ricketts' hands came up and he stabbed in Mingo's direction angrily. Marie Victorine came scurrying up. She curtsied again to Ricketts, the crowd and the Cherokee before replacing the apple on Mingo's head. The girl ran to Tommy and nodded emphatically. Yes, Mingo was willing for him to continue.

"Now what, Daniel?" begged Philip.

"Ricketts is makin' the boy give it another go," Daniel shook his head. "I've seen what the boy's capable of, Philip. At that distance, it's an easy shot for him. He's shakin' so hard though, I don't know if he can make it. Mingo ain't lookin' any too healthy neither."

Philip snatched the spyglass back, "Mingo's up again, Daniel. Your friend Tommy's h'aiming at 'im again – Eh, Daniel . . ." he shook his head. He couldn't look.

Daniel grabbed the offered spyglass, and looked through it again at the drama unfolding.

As Daniel watched, Tommy lined up another arrow. Mingo's head rose up high; Daniel could have sworn the Cherokee looked in their direction and nodded. Mingo smiled at the boy, encouraging him. Tommy's spine stiffened. He let the arrow fly. This time the arrow flew home, straight through the apple into the pole behind Mingo's head. The crowd went wild. Mingo sagged.

Tommy threw down the bow and arrows and sprinted for the Cherokee. LeBrun and Marie Victorine came running from behind one of the wagons. Tommy got to him first. The boy giant would let no one else near Mingo. Daniel continued to watch while LeBrun cut the Indian free. Tommy picked up the Cherokee in his arms, cradling him like a child. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the boy giant carried his friend to Marie Victorine's wagon. Marie Victorine and LeBrun followed close behind.

****************

Mingo regained consciousness quickly. He tried to sit up in the familiar bunk of Marie Victorine's wagon, and was gently but firmly pushed back down. The arrow had been removed from his arm while he had been unconscious, he was relieved to see.

Marie Victorine smiled through tears. "No stitching this time, chéri!" She soaped a rag and carefully wiped Mingo's face. There were fresh cuts and bruises on Mingo's face and arms under the paint and blood, she noted.

Baptiste removed the cloth from her hand, and indicated she should seat herself in the wagon's only chair. "You are betrothed to me. I will look after l'Indien," he told her firmly. "Your days of playing the coquette are over, chérie." He began gently wiping away the blood and paint. "You had help dressing yourself, mon ami? I noticed that several of Monsieur Ricketts' ruffians look much as you do!"

Mingo smiled impishly, "I tried to tell them I did not need their assistance."

Baptiste noticed Marie Victorine eyeing the bare-chested muscular Cherokee. He said, "You may go, Victorine. We do not need you peeping through your fingers, Mademoiselle Slyboots. Tommy and I will see to Monsieur Mingo."

She pouted in disappointment, but flashed them a cheeky smile, "Oui, Baptiste."

Baptiste carefully wrapped a bandage around the wound in Mingo's arm. "You are in much pain, Monsieur Mingo?" he grinned at the Cherokee. "I could fetch Madame La Beard, if you wish it?" he offered.

"Thank you, non, Baptiste," answered Mingo, "and it is just 'Mingo'." He laughed, "The pain I am feeling is nothing to having to tell Mademoiselle Slyboots that I will need another shirt – I fear most of my clothing did not survive the costume change Ricketts insisted upon!"

LeBrun grinned back. "That Marie Victorine - have you seen her stitches?! At least an inch each!" He gestured with his finger and thumb to demonstrate the size of her stitches.

Tommy had been very quiet. Mingo spoke to him gently, "Are you all right, Tommy?"

Tommy burst into unmanly tears again, "That's the second time I shot you, Mingo! Ain't you angry with me? That's the second time I near killed you!"

"Third time's a charm," said Baptiste, laughing. "Monsieur Mingo is not killed, nearly."

"It ain't funny, Baptiste!" sobbed Tommy. "Ol' Ricketts said he'd sell you as a slave if'n I didn't do as he tole me, Mingo!"

Mingo reached out with his uninjured left arm, and ruffled Tommy's hair. "But you did not kill me, Tommy. You did only what you were forced to do. You protected me when I could not protect myself." Tommy lifted his head. Mingo winked at him.

"Besides," Mingo added smoothly, "while I was watching you line up your arrow, I saw sunlight glinting off a spyglass in the distance. Daniel is nearby!"

Tommy gave a shout of happiness, but Baptiste hushed him with a hand across his mouth.

"Tommy," Mingo pantomimed again, holding his hand close to his chest. "Why don't you step outside the wagon and wave . . ." He looked at Baptiste who peered out the wagon's only window.

"At Marie Victorine," suggested Baptiste. "She will wish to know Monsieur – just Mingo," he amended, "is all right." He handed a towel to the boy. "You will want to make sure Victorine is watching!"

Tommy opened the door and, on his knees, flapped the towel in Marie Victorine's direction.

*****************

Several hundred yards away, Daniel smiled in satisfaction. "We kin go now," he informed Philip fifteen feet below. "Mingo ain't hurt bad." Daniel hung by his hands from the tree branch and dropped to the ground next to Philip. He tucked the spyglass back into his belt.

"'Ow do you know, Daniel?" demanded Philip, in amazement. They had spent the last hour, Philip chewing his fingernails, Daniel in the crook of the tree keeping his spyglass trained on the wagon where they had seen Mingo carried.

"Tommy just stepped out of that wagon and waved a towel at Miss Marie," Daniel's smile was bland. "Over the years, me and Mingo've worked out a few signals," he admitted.

"Makes sense," Philip agreed. "You've been out searching for signs from him all this time H'i thought you were 'unting, weren't you?"

"You're catchin' on, Philip," Daniel smiled. "Reckon I'll make a woodsman out of you yet. Let's go kiss Old Bet good night and settle in."

"And you, Daniel," Philip responded, laughing, "Reckon H'i'll make a circus star out of you yet!"

****************

Daniel's relief at having actually seen Mingo was palpable as they walked. He whistled in the tuneless manner that Philip had come to understand meant contentment.

Philip trudged along behind the big Kentuckian in silence, respecting Daniel's quietude. Daniel flushed and shot a fat rabbit, and slung it over his shoulder. They arrived back where they had chained Old Bet to find her wallowing in the muddy creek like an oversized hog.

Daniel went to unchain her while Philip built up a fire and began skinning the rabbit. Daniel grinned his lop-sided grin as he thought about their reversal of roles since they had begun the journey together.

The elephant trumpeted her joy of living as she rolled and wallowed. She filled her trunk and gleefully squirted Philip again and again. Philip pretended anger, but Daniel knew his fondness for the elephant was deep and genuine.

It was almost completely dark, the evening meal eaten, and Bet secured for the night, before Philip broached the subject of the two Cherokee.

"Daniel," he began hesitantly, "What shall we do about Mingo and your giant friend?"

"He's right where he oughtta be now, Philip," Daniel said calmly, "Bein' looked after in that wagon. I figger he ain't in the best shape right about now anyway. If he had been, he'da left us some signs sooner. Now he's got that hole in his shoulder too. Nope," Daniel shook his head. "I reckon we'd better let him lay up for a coupla days before we make our darin' rescue!"

"Do you have a plan, Daniel?" Philip persisted.

Daniel smiled airily, "Naw, we'll just make it up as we go. 'Sides," he grinned, "Old Bet is our ace in the hole!" 


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Ricketts ordered that the circus quickly pack up and head for the next destination, as soon as the performance was concluded. The show had been heavily attended, with nearly 50 settlers offering up a shilling apiece, sixpence per child. Madame La Beard, acting in her dual role as candy butcher cum sideshow performer, had also raked in the shillings and pence selling her lemonade, cakes, and candy. The pair sat in Ricketts' own wagon, counting up the day's gate while the circus roughnecks packed and loaded wagons. Ricketts was obviously pleased.

"Well, Martha, the 'Amerindian Gargantua' and the 'Indian Clown' certainly will make our fortune for us!" he gloated. "How bad is the Indian? Will he be able to make an appearance in tomorrow's performance?"

"Barring another disaster like today's, he might," the bearded woman said drily, "The beating your hostlers gave him while 'assisting' him into his costume didn't help," she added. "Was it necessary for him to wear that costume?"

Ricketts looked uncomfortable. "I didn't intend for that to happen," he admitted. "Things got a bit out of hand. For one who seemed so ill, the Indian fought like a tiger."

"You are underestimating that Indian, Mr. Ricketts," Madame La Beard shook her head, "When he recovers his memory, and he will, he will be a force to be reckoned with."

**************

LeBrun insisted that the Cherokee accept a draught from the bearded woman for pain, so Mingo grudgingly took it. The potion Madame La Beard administered made him sleep for hours. The lurching sway of the wagon woke him, and he lay for a moment in the bunk taking a mental inventory of his injuries. The cuts and bruises from his beating earlier that day were sore, and he felt stiff all over. The wound in his arm throbbed angrily. On the plus side, he decided, his head felt clearer, and the septic wound in his forehead was healing nicely. And Daniel Boone couldn't be more than a few hours behind the circus caravan, he thought cheerfully. As he stretched cautiously, he let out a subdued groan. Tommy woke instantly from his pallet on the floor.

He yawned and sat up, "You all right, Mingo?"

At his nod, Tommy rose to his knees and helped Mingo lift himself to an upright position. Marie Victorine's scented pillow was stuffed behind his shoulders. Tommy sniffed the scent and gave a huge sigh.

Mingo hid his grin, "You know she is betrothed to Baptiste, do you not, Tommy?" he asked gently.

"That don't mean she'll ever marry him," Tommy said defiantly.

"Perhaps not," Mingo agreed diplomatically, "but both Mademoiselle Rousseau and Baptiste have indicated to me that their engagement has been a long-standing one. I believe they will marry as soon as possible. They are in love," he reminded him.

Tommy scowled, "All she ever talks about is 'Baptiste'," he complained. "It's 'Baptiste' this, and 'Baptiste' that. Why's she always winkin' and smilin' at a feller if she means to marry him?"

Mingo shrugged noncommittally and winced in pain. He wasn't certain he was up for a discussion about the facts of life in his frail condition.

Tommy's new adult voice cracked suddenly, "Why'd she kiss me?" He looked away, hiding the tears that sprang into his eyes.

Mingo felt a pang for the boy, "It is the nature of some ladies to wink and smile at a 'feller', Tommy. Mademoiselle Rousseau is a flirt. I suspect Baptiste will have his hands full with that little coquette, even after they are wed. Then there are the Rebecca Boones of the world, the women who love once and for all time."

Tommy blinked away tears as he turned to gaze at Mingo.

Mingo winked at him, and patted his shoulder awkwardly with his left hand. "Broken hearts will always mend. When you choose your ladylove, boy, pick a 'Rebecca' over a 'Mam'zelle'!"

Tommy grinned suddenly and knuckled away a tear, "How come you know so much about the ladies, Mingo? Why ain't you hitched like Mr. Boone and Mrs. Rebecca? I noticed you was winkin' and smilin' right back at Mam'zelle!"

Mingo was somber, "Flirtation and love are two different things. There are men who love once and for all time, too, Tommy. Daniel is one. I am another. I left my ladylove long ago in England. Who knows if I shall ever see her again?"

Tommy was agog, "Do tell, Mingo!"

Mingo shook his head, indicating the subject was closed. "No, that is a story for another time, boy." He suddenly felt unutterably sad and old. "Now, I think I would like to rest."

****************

Daniel, to Philip's open astonishment, spent the morning fishing. The big Kentuckian had opened his bandoleer, extracted a hook and a spool of strong cotton thread, and begun to fish.

When Philip tried to talk to him, Daniel winked and whispered, "You're disturbin' the fish!" He turned his back on the Englishman, and went on fishing.

An hour later, Daniel had quite a few fine trout to show for his effort. He threaded them on a stick above the fire, whistling off-key all the while. All the while, the elephant was denuding tree after tree, pulling off leaves and small branches and stuffing them in her mouth.

"Daniel," Philip's patience was strained, "Do you have a plan to rescue Mingo and the boy?"

Daniel shook his head, still whistling. He took a packet of cornmeal from his haversack, and began to mix it with water and salt, making corn cakes.

"I hate to admit it, Philip," Daniel said, "but Mingo's a sight better cook than me. He can rival my Becky with his corn cakes. He can make a corn cake the angels theirselves'd sigh over. Mmm, mmm, mmm. I sure do miss my Injun." he added, shaking his head mournfully.

"Your H'indian, Daniel?" Philip was mystified.

"Yep," Daniel grinned, as he patted the corn cakes between his palms and plopped them on a flat stone near the fire. "Mingo's been like a member of the family for so long, folks roundabout Boonesborough mostly just call him 'Boone's Injun' when they speak of him. I've taken to claimin' him, like. Becky and the young'uns'd have my scalp if I let anything happen to that Cherokee!"

Daniel winked as he warmed to his tale, "Keeps life mighty interestin', seein' what kind of mischief he'll get himself into next. Never thought it'd be my life's work pullin' that Indian's feathers outta the fire, nor Becky's avocation-" Daniel rolled the word around on his tongue, "-that there's a word Mingo likes to use-" he added, and continued, "nor Becky's avocation doctorin' him."

Daniel poked one of the cakes with his finger, burned it, and stuck the finger in his mouth. "Now, that ain't to say Mingo ain't saved my scalp a time or two! He found us the place for Boonesborough, saved me from the Shawnee, saved me from his own brother killin' me and that right after his brother like to half-killed him. . . Still haven't figgered out how he could travel 20 miles in the shape he was in. . ." He shook his head thoughtfully. "Just seems like Mingo ends up needin' doctorin' more often than anyone else I know."

"Speakin' of doctorin'," he added thoughtfully. "I could enliven many a night around the campfire tellin' you all the ways an Oxford-eddicated Cherokee can find to get himself hurt. And he don't even half try," Daniel added in mock wonderment. "Why, the first time we met, he was bein' chased by Shawnees after his scalp! He's been mauled by bears, shot by murderers, poisoned, speared by runaway slaves, almost skinned alive by his own brother," Daniel had ticked off all the fingers on one hand, without pausing for breath.

He took in a deep breath and continued, "Got himself near hanged, horse-whipped, you name it."

Daniel looked at Philip, whose eyes were enormous, "That don't include the time he got his leg busted gettin' a wagon dropped on it, or when he was strollin' through the woods with my boy Israel and stepped in a bear trap! Yessirree," he added for emphasis, "A man could hang out his shingle on the strength of the things he'd learn doctorin' Mingo!"

Daniel snapped his fingers suddenly. Philip jumped. "I plumb forgot!" Daniel exclaimed.

"What did you plumb forget, Daniel?" Philip's mouth was hanging open slightly.

"That's twice in one year Tommy's shot him with an arrow!"

Philip eyed Daniel suspiciously, "You're making all of this up, aren't you, Daniel?"

Daniel shook his head solemnly, as he turned the corn cakes over. "That's the marvel of it all, Philip. I ain't."

*****************

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, as they finished off the last of the trout. The corn cakes had cooked to a turn, only slightly charred.

Philip sighed and patted his stomach, "A feast for the gods, Daniel."

"Shame, though, about them corn cakes," Daniel said ruefully. "You ain't lived 'til you've eaten one of Mingo's corn cakes."

"All joking h'aside, Daniel," Philip began. "Do you have a plan for rescuing Mingo and the boy, Tommy?"

"Reckon that depends on you, Philip," Daniel answered. He fixed Philip with a steady stare from under the brown bangs that flopped in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Philip's normally loud voice was small. He avoided making eye contact with the big Kentuckian.

"You need to decide when you're gonna be completely truthful with me." Daniel sipped at the coffee in his mug, scowled, and dumped it out. "Mingo's coffee's better'n mine, too," he said absently.

The Englishman did not answer. Daniel's eyebrow began to twitch.

"Philip," Daniel began, in a tone of exaggerated calm. The twitching eyebrow would have served as a three-minute warning to anyone in Boonesborough.

"If'n I find you're still lyin' to me about your reasons for followin' Ricketts, I won't hold myself liable for what I'm apt to do. If'n your lies cause any more harm to Mingo or that boy, I might break you into small pieces and feed you to your own elephant!" The calm tone had deteriorated into a bellow that made the leaves on the trees rustle. Old Bet looked over from her endless munching, startled.

Daniel lowered his voice to a yell, "You told me Ricketts stole your ring. Then you told me he stole your whole circus," Philip was nodding vigorously. "Now, consarn it, Philip," Daniel's voice went a notch louder. "What the devil has the man got that you'd follow him fifteen hunnerd miles on an elephant?"

Philip looked up, ashen-faced. "My wife." 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Mingo shuddered as he woke, disoriented from the nightmare. The wagon was entirely dark, still sweltering from the day's heat. There was no movement; the circus must have settled in for the night. He sank back against the pillow, trying to recall the dream. There had been shouting, indistinct pleading, feminine weeping. He shook his head, and winced at the throbbing pain. Immediately, soft hands lifted his head and offered him sips of cool water.

"Thank you," he murmured, and closed his eyes again.

"Would you like something for pain, Mingo?" a soft feminine voice asked.

His eyes flew open, startled. A striker flashed, and the candle near the bunk was lit. The voice belonged to Madame La Beard. Mingo shrank back from her, his revulsion apparent in his eyes.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her voice was thick with unshed tears. "I wish you could forgive me for everything I have done to you, Mingo. I meant no harm. I am as much a prisoner of John Bill Ricketts as you are," the bearded woman laughed mirthlessly.

Mingo found his voice, "You, Madame La Beard? I thought you were squarely on his side."

"I detest John Bill Ricketts," she said fiercely, "but I must appear to be his loyal friend, just as Baptiste and Victorine are forced to. Baptiste told me that your friend, Daniel Boone, is following. They say you will help them escape to Canada. Please, when you and the boy leave, let me go too! My only wish in this life is to see my dear husband again!"

Mingo's head was spinning with pain and the woman's confusing words. "I am not sure I understand you, Madame La Beard," he stammered. "Is anyone in this circus what they appear to be?"

"We are no more and no less than any other group of people," she assured him. "We are all united against John Ricketts. He was to pick up performers here in the Colonies and join Philip Astley in New York. Mr. Astley went to Salem to pick up an elephant, and Ricketts saw the opportunity to steal his circus. We are all held against our will. I gave a harmless remedy to a person already at death's door, only to ease the pain of his passing. John Ricketts accused me of murder and threatened me with the magistrate. I didn't hurt anyone, Mingo! Baptiste LeBrun defended himself with his fists against a thief with a gun. Can a man not defend his own life? He is accused of murder! Ricketts has uncovered some incident involving each of us and magnified these incidents into crimes! We are circus performers, Mingo! That fact and our freakish appearance condemn us immediately. People believe any wickedness of us!" Her voice grew louder with righteous indignation. She lowered her voice and went on, "The man is more a criminal than any of us! He has played us against each other, using our own fears and suspicions to separate us," she said bitterly. "None of us dared to look for the truth in the lies Ricketts fed us all."

Mingo was reeling with headache and bewilderment. "Madame La Beard," he began weakly.

"Please, my name is Martha," the bearded woman responded. "Mingo, I will help you as much as I can - and all the other circus folk will too!" She held a cup with an herbal remedy to his lips. "It is for pain only," she promised.

Mingo drank. The liquid had a pleasant licorice flavor, sweetened with honey; this woman certainly had an affinity for honey! He began to feel drowsy again. "Thank you, Martha," he said, "When Daniel arrives, we will do our very best to help you. Ricketts has much to answer for."

**************

They made camp just behind the tree line. Daniel was again perched in a tree crook with the spyglass watching the circus caravan. Happily, there was water nearby for Old Bet. The elephant immersed herself up to her eyeballs and began playfully filling her trunk and squirting it. Philip was her usual target. Daniel was grateful he was twenty feet away, and fifteen feet up the sycamore tree.

Philip spent the time in amusing himself by trying to set a snare. He tried over and over again, only to watch rabbits scamper around or through without snaring any. He snorted his disgust. Daniel heard from his crook and grinned.

He called, "Philip, it ain't that hard to do. Mingo can do it in his sleep. My boy Israel can set a snare quicker'n a flash."

Philip grinned back, "Well, Daniel, H'i don't think there'll be much call for me to snare rabbits when Patsy and H'i get back to London. H'i've nothing h'against the Colonies, old chap, but the wilds of America are just too wild for the likes of me! H'i think H'i'll leave America to Ricketts and claim Europe for myself! Your country is no place for an Englishman!"

"Reckon Mingo'd disagree, Philip?" Daniel asked. "He's made a good life here. Earned himself the friendship of pretty near every man in Boonesborough. Found a place with his mother's people."

"H'it ain't every man 'oo can turn 'is back on an earldom, friend Daniel," Astley's voice was less bombastic than usual.

"No, but Mingo ain't your ordinary feller, neither, Philip," Daniel agreed.

He turned his back on Astley, returning his gaze to the caravan in the distance. It was difficult to judge how far they should remain behind the circus. Daniel had no idea how far Old Bet's trumpeting call could sound, nor if any of the circus folk would recognize her voice and report to Ricketts.

Daniel decided they should remain at least half a mile behind. He would, himself, make a visit to the circus encampment when they stopped, to see if he could find Mingo or Tommy.

The elephant was still happily wallowing in the water. It was a lovely summery day, sun high in the sky, fresh breezes blowing. A perfect day for a circus performance. Daniel knew there was a small settlement not more than five miles ahead. He expected that Ricketts would take the opportunity to stop and put on a performance. He decided to leave Old Bet to her wallowing and Philip to stay with her.

It was time for the tall Kentuckian to pay a visit to two friends.

****************

"No, Monsieur Ricketts," Baptiste's voice was decisive. "L'Indien cannot perform today. See for yourself!" LeBrun was already dressed in his green satin costume, ready for the afternoon's show.

John Bill Ricketts came, shortly before the performance was to begin, to investigate for himself whether Mingo could perform again. Tommy's "William Tell" act had been such a resounding success the day before that Ricketts was certain that word of mouth news would have preceded them to the settlement they were near.

Ricketts bent over the unresponsive Indian. He touched his forehead. It was incredibly hot. Mingo stirred and muttered.

"You see, Monsieur?" Baptiste insisted. "He cannot possibly leave this bed. Victorine and I, Madame La Beard and the boy take it in turns attending him."

"What does Martha say?" Ricketts' displeasure was obvious.

"Madame says it would be folly to insist that Monsieur Mingo perform with so high a fever," Baptiste parroted.

"Very well, then," Ricketts said angrily. "I'm sure we can find someone else to play the target for Tall Trees. Get yourself ready and over to the wire, Baptiste! It is almost time for you and Victorine to perform! Make sure this wagon is locked when you leave, since all of you will be taking part in today's show!"

The door slammed behind him as he departed the wagon. Mingo sat up grinning broadly. Baptiste returned the grin. He reached under the bunk and pulled out a basin of steaming water with a cloth in it.

"Victorine is incroyable, n'est ce pas?" Baptiste's voice was fond, "The minx was born to connive!"

Mingo laughed and agreed, "Yes, indeed! And equally 'incroyable' that Madame La Beard herself suggested this little scheme! Daniel will undoubtedly make his presence known soon, and we will see what we will see!"

Baptiste was still worried, "He can do nothing to help us escape while you remain locked in this wagon, mon ami!"

Mingo's smile was grim, "When Daniel Boone is concerned, I have learned that where there is a will, Daniel will make a way!"

*************

Truer words were never spoken. Locked in Marie Victorine's wagon, Mingo could hear the shouts and applause from the performance going on a few hundred yards away.

A familiar voice spoke from the tiny open window. "What in the name of the Creator have you gotten yourself into this time, Mingo?"

"Daniel!" Mingo's sigh of relief was huge and heartfelt. "What in tarnation has taken you so long to find us?"

Daniel was grinning, "You ever tried chivvyin' an elephant where she don't wanna go, Mingo? It ain't the easiest thing. Keepin' Philip's nose headed in the right direction ain't no bed of roses, neither."

Mingo's head was spinning, "Daniel, I don't understand . . . what elephant . . . Philip Astley's elephant? Philip is here?"

Daniel took a closer look at the Cherokee. Mingo looked as if he had been on the losing side of a battle. "Sit down before you fall down, Mingo. I'll whisper louder."

Mingo sank down on the bunk, stunned by Daniel's news.

"Philip and Bet are camped about a mile back – we didn't want to risk Ricketts hearin' her bellerin'." Daniel grinned. "It's been a right treat and trial comin' all this way on an elephant's back. They showed up in Boonesborough a week or so after you and the boy'd been taken.

"Why should Philip Astley bring an elephant to Boonesborough?" Mingo's mind was reeling as he tried to keep up with Daniel's story.

"Philip's finally told me why he's been followin' Ricketts all this way - " Daniel began.

Mingo spoke at the same time, "I, too, only just found out that Ricketts stole Philip's entire circus -"

Daniel broke in, "It ain't just his circus, Mingo. Ricketts kidnapped Philip's wife."

"Wife?" Mingo was hopelessly confused, "But Daniel, the only women here are Mademoiselle Rousseau, Ricketts' own wife, and Madame La Beard -" a sudden burst of applause and cheering made him break off speaking.

Daniel looked over his shoulder, "Yep, the circus is ending. I'd better get back to Philip. Reckon you'd be up for helpin' Philip take back what's rightfully his?"

Mingo nodded; Daniel looked uncertain.

"You've looked healthier, Mingo. Philip'n me'll lay back behind the circus a coupla days. You and the boy be ready – you'll know when to act."

"Daniel! Daniel, WAIT!" Mingo's whisper was more nearly a shout. But the big Kentuckian had gone.

**********

The boy giant was gleeful. "You ought to've seen 'em, Mingo! Ol' Ricketts made one of the hostlers fill in for you today!"

Mingo was propped up in the bunk, leaning against the scented pillow. "Is the fellow still in one piece?"

"I didn't hardly hurt him none," crowed Tommy. "Just parted his hair for him!"

"Tommy," Mingo began reprovingly, "What have you done?"

"Oh," Tommy said airily, "'Tweren't much, Mingo! The folks who come to see the show started booin' and cat-callin' when they seen it weren't you so ol' Ricketts ran and dragged one of the hostlers out 'n made him stand up against the target. I put the first arrow through his sleeve."

Tommy paused and looked at Mingo, unsure of his reaction.

"Yes, yes," Mingo prompted, "And then?" The Cherokee's eyes were dancing with mischief, and he was grinning broadly.

Tommy began to laugh, "Well, after I scared him so bad he pret' near wet himself, I did go ahead and put the arrow through the apple on his head."

Mingo began to laugh too. The door to the wagon opened and Marie Victorine came in, followed by Baptiste.

She shook her finger under Tommy's nose. "You are very naughty, Tommee, to frighten him so! And you, Monsieur Mingo, are just as naughty to encourage Tommee! Monsieur Chevalier did not choose to be your target! Monsieur Ricketts insisted!"

The boy was unrepentant. "Mingo didn't ask to be my target, neither! At least Mr. Chevalier didn't have the sauce beat out of him first like they did Mingo!"

Mingo put his hands in the air, placating the squabbling pair, "Peace, children!" he said, laughing.

Marie Victorine saw the bandage on his upper arm, and was reminded of her purpose in entering the wagon.

She perched on the chair near the bunk, and began unwrapping the bandage around Mingo's arm. Her lips were pursed as she inspected the wound. It showed no sign of mortification, and she smiled her satisfaction. She slathered honey on the wound, and wrapped it up again.

"It is healing well, chéri," she said. She looked over her shoulder at Baptiste. "I do not know how much longer we can convince Monsieur Ricketts that you are ill."

"Did Monsieur Boone come to call today, mon ami, as you suspected he might?" asked Baptiste.

"Mr. Boone was here?" Tommy's eyes grew large.

"Yes, he did indeed come to call," Mingo admitted. "He said that we should be ready."

"For what?" inquired Baptiste.

"I'm not certain," Mingo shook his head. "Daniel said something most peculiar," he continued. "He said that Philip Astley is with him, and that Ricketts has kidnapped Philip's wife."

"Who, chéri?" asked Marie Victorine. "Monsieur Astley's wife?"

Mingo wrinkled his nose, "I must not have understood him correctly. Mademoiselle Rousseau, Baptiste, how many women are with this company?"

"Aside from Victorine, whom you know to be betrothed to me, there is Madame La Beard, and Madame Ricketts," Baptiste ticked them off on the fingers of his hand.

"We ain't never seen Mrs. Ricketts," Tommy reminded Baptiste. "Could she be Mrs. Astley instead?"

"Non, non," Baptiste assured them. "She is the mother of Francis, Monsieur Ricketts' son."

"But you do not know this, mon amor," Marie Victorine reminded him. "She stays in the wagon; she does not perform, nor does she do any work around the circus." The girl turned her eyes back to Mingo. "It is conceivable, Monsieur Mingo, that she might not be the wife of Ricketts, but of Monsieur Astley."

"Have you ever met Philip Astley?" Mingo asked.

Baptiste shook his head. "We communicated by letters only. When Monsieur Ricketts met us in La Nouvelle-Orléans,we understood that he was acting for Monsieur Astley. The woman in Ricketts' wagon was introduced as his wife."

Mingo was still mystified. "I knew Philip many years ago. If he had a wife, I never knew of it."

"Mr. Boone got a plan, Mingo?" Tommy wanted to know.

Mingo shook his head. "I have told you all that I know, boy."

Baptiste summed it up. "We will just have to wait and see." 


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Daniel arrived back at their camp to find Old Bet occupied, as she usually was, pulling up small trees and devouring the leaves and branches. He patted the elephant's cheek affectionately. She returned the favor by rubbing the tip of her trunk over Daniel's face and hat. She snatched his coonskin cap off his head and tasted it.

"Tastes the same as last time, don't it?" Daniel chuckled. Finding its taste offensive, she dropped the cap on the ground at Daniel's feet. "Thanks, old gal," Daniel said.

Philip came hurrying up, shining with perspiration and triumph. He held a freshly snared rabbit in his hands, "H'i say, old chap!"

"I believe you've got the knack, Philip," Daniel congratulated him. Daniel took the rabbit and began to skin it and ready it for the spit.

"What did you discover, Daniel? 'Ow are Mingo and the boy?"

Daniel continued his work, "Well, the boy's fine as frogs' hair. Mingo ain't lookin' particularly healthy yet, but I reckon if we kin give him another day, he'll be able to do his part."

"What will 'is part be, Daniel?" asked Philip.

"Reckon your guess is as good as mine, Philip. I'm minded of what my own pa was used to say, 'It's hard to render a perfect tune when you have to make it up while you're already whistlin'."

***************

In the end, Daniel and Philip decided to hang back for two days, giving Mingo an extra day to gather his strength, and warn his co-conspirators to be ready. Daniel wondered fleetingly if it would be worth their while to pay another visit to the wagon where Mingo and Tommy were incarcerated every night for more information. He decided that more information would not be worth the chance of Ricketts hearing, or worse, seeing Old Bet. It would be easy enough to cover the distance between themselves and any town where Ricketts might decide to put on a performance.

They dined on roasted rabbit that night. Daniel discovered that the ebullient Englishman was almost as good a cook as Mingo. Philip mixed and patted corn cakes and plopped them on the flat rock to bake by the fire.

"You're a quick study, Philip," Daniel observed later as they sat by the dying fire. The night was so warm that no fire was necessary. They were far enough behind the circus encampment that there was no risk of the fire being seen. But the fire was a source of comfort, and both men appreciated its warmth and light.

"Being of an adaptable nature comes h'in 'andy, Daniel," Philip admitted. "When you see your chance, you take h'it."

"Like Ricketts did," Daniel answered.

"H'it ain't the same thing, stealing a man's wife, and livelihood," Philip retorted angrily.

"Tell me about your wife, Philip," Daniel invited him.

"Patsy, 'er name h'is, 'least that's what I call her, Daniel. As extraordinary a female as one could wish! She's the love of my life," Astley waxed poetic, thinking of his wife. "'Elps me h'in the performances, she does. The woman's willing to try h'anything!"

"Does she ride too, Philip?" inquired Daniel.

"Oh, yes! She's right famous for 'er trick with 'er bees. Got a fine h'understanding of bees, my Patsy does. Carries a bottle of 'oney with 'er wher'hever she goes, she does"

"Bees?" Daniel couldn't quite believe his ears. "Honey?"

"Bees," agreed Philip, "'As h'in 'oney-bees. Rides h'around the ring with the bees swarming h'over 'er 'ands like mitts! Draws the crowd to their feet h'every time!"

"Standin' on horseback, like you, Philip?" Daniel asked.

"Not with the bees, no," Philip admitted. "She'll give h'it a go standing, now and then, but more often, she gives 'em the bees while she's sittin' side-saddle."

Daniel couldn't begin to comprehend how a woman might ride on horseback with bees swarming around her. He couldn't imagine a horse willing to tolerate such tomfoolery. One unhappy bee, and the woman's life would be in danger. He could not fathom anyone being foolhardy enough to risk their life on a daily basis. Then he thought of his own Becky, who had given up a comfortable home in the Carolinas to follow him to Kentucky, losing her oldest son in the process. The courage of women following their men folk humbled him.

Philip was still sighing, thinking of his missing Patsy. Daniel pulled his coonskin cap off, laid it behind his head, and gave himself over to sleep.

"Well, pleasant dreams, Philip." Daniel shook his head once more thinking of Mrs. Astley and her bees.

"Good night, Daniel."

**************

"Mingo!" Tommy's voice was urgent. "Ol' Ricketts says you're gonna perform today, whether you like it or not!" The boy scrambled into the wagon, where Mingo, Marie Victorine and Baptiste were gathered, making the cramped quarters even more so.

"He does, you say?" Mingo was blandly unconcerned. "Well, then, boy, I shall perform!"

He was wearing the latest shirt that Marie Victorine had sewn for him. Sleeveless as he preferred, with a deep opening down the front, it was as much like his own as she could make it. He was back in the trousers she had made for him too. The jaunty red ribbon served again as a belt. The bandage on his shoulder was crisp and new. The one covering the cut on his forehead had two jaunty turkey feathers thrust into it. He carried his arm in a calico sling of her devising. While Marie Victorine held a pot of greasepaint, Baptiste carefully daubed stripes onto Mingo's cheeks and chin. Mingo surveyed himself in Marie Victorine's looking-glass and grinned. He raised his eyebrows, Baptiste smiled back. The total effect was comical.

"You ain't worried none, Mingo?" Tommy's face fell. He had clearly hoped to be the bearer of the news.

"Not at all, Tommy," Mingo assured him. "Baptiste had already told me. I shall perform 'William Tell' with you this afternoon as Ricketts has commanded."

Baptiste was dressed in his usual green satin costume. Marie Victorine was wearing her pink spangled dress and bright red tights. Baptiste brought Mingo's own bullwhip out from under the cape he carried. Mingo made no effort to take it.

Baptiste and Mingo exchanged a look, and nodded. Mingo said briskly, "Now, then, boy, hadn't you better get into your own costume?" Tommy shook his head; the clothes he wore daily served as his costume.

Marie Victorine giggled, "Madame La Beard is so angry with me! I laundered my new stockings in the water barrel and the red dye faded into all the water! She says there is no water now to make the lemonade! I do not know what Monsieur Ricketts will say if there is no lemonade for the performance today."

Mingo shook his head, "Madame La Beard is a formidable woman. I would by far rather have her on our side than on Ricketts'."

A crowd could be heard approaching. Baptiste peered out the wagon's only window. From his vantage point, he could see most of the settlers of the town arriving and settling themselves on blankets on the ground. The hostlers had scythed down a large area in the middle of the field. He turned to the rest of them.

"The settlers have arrived. It is time," he pronounced. Marie Victorine took Baptiste's hand. With her other hand, she blew kisses to Mingo and Tommy as they left. The door locked behind them.

Tommy stared at Mingo, who was smiling cheerfully. He patted Tommy's shoulder encouragingly.

"It will be vastly entertaining!" Mingo said mockingly. "I hope Mr. Ricketts is prepared to have his imagination staggered!"

They made themselves comfortable in the wagon to await their performance. Mingo sprawled on the bunk, whistling a merry tune. Listening for a moment or two, Tommy made out the tune to be Marie Victorine's song about planting cabbages. After almost an hour, the door was wrenched open, and the hostler, known only as Monsieur Chevalier, put his head in.

"You're up, Injuns," he informed them. Tommy slid out the door. Mingo rose immediately and followed the boy.

Baptiste came to meet them. Mingo sauntered to the pole sunk into the ground. He took his position, leaning up against it, still whistling.

Ricketts came over to them, suspicious of Mingo's lack of resistance.

Tommy took a good look at his friend. The look of imbecility was back on Mingo's face. Tommy swallowed his laughter with difficulty. It was hard for him to believe that a man as smart as Ricketts thought himself to be couldn't tell the Cherokee was play-acting.

Baptiste held a rope in his hands but seemed uncertain how to tie Mingo to the pole. At Ricketts' direction, Baptiste tied the rope around Mingo's midsection, leaving his arms free. Baptiste and Mingo exchanged a long look.

Mingo winked so quickly that Tommy thought he had imagined it.

It seemed like a dream to Tommy. Baptiste brought him his bow and the quiver of arrows. Ricketts turned to return to his position on horseback, directing the performance. Tommy glanced around him. The crowd for the performance was larger than any they had had yet. There might have been as many as a hundred people watching. He could see Madame La Beard in the background. Incongruously, the woman was carrying a pitcher of what looked like pink lemonade. Tommy snorted with laughter. The enterprising candy butcher had obviously decided to use the water Marie Victorine had rinsed her stockings in anyway!

The dwarf was beginning his litany. Tommy listened as if he had never heard it before.

"The AMERINDIAN GARGANTUA, Tall Trees," the dwarf shouted, unenthusiastically, "will again RE-ENACT the TALE OF WILLIAM TELL! The CHILD giant, TEN years old and TEN FEET TALL, will attempt to SHOOT an APPLE off the HEAD of the INDIAN CLOWN!"

As she had last time with Mingo, and the day before with the hostler, Marie Victorine came hurrying out. She curtsied, first to Mingo, next to the settlers. She placed a large apple on Mingo's head.

As she hurried back to stand beside Baptiste, the crowd of settlers grew still. Tommy looked at Mingo, twenty long paces away from him. Mingo's chin went up higher, and he nodded ever so slightly. The boy looked at Baptiste and Marie Victorine. Baptiste winked unmistakably. Marie Victorine blew another kiss. Tommy looked out across the settlers.

He gave a gasp of astonishment.

Behind the assorted settlers and their children, casually leaning against a tree, sat Daniel Boone. 


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

The big Kentuckian raised a finger to his forehead in salute and smiled at Tommy.

Tommy's mouth fell open. He looked incredulously at Mingo for his reaction. From his studied indifference, it was clear that Mingo had known Daniel was there. He crossed his eyes at Tommy and made a funny face, ending in a wink, then nodded slightly, careful not to dislodge the apple on his head. Then, before Tommy's eyes, the tall man faded from view back into the trees. Incredibly, Ricketts had seen nothing.

Ricketts shouted impatiently, "Get on with it, Tall Trees! What are you waiting for?"

Tommy was so flustered that the first arrow sailed past the Cherokee and embedded itself in the grass behind the pole. Mingo reached up with his left hand, removed the apple from his head and took a huge, theatrical bite. He chewed unconcernedly while the crowd howled with laughter. The settlers roared their approval of the Indian's bravado. He held up the hand with the apple in a gesture that meant for Tommy to wait. Tommy stood, with a second arrow lined up on the nock, watching while Mingo devoured the rest of the apple. He threw down the apple core, and bowed from the waist to the laughing crowd. Marie Victorine came hurrying out with another apple. She too was giggling. She curtsied to the Cherokee. He bowed back, as much as the ropes around his midsection would allow. When she tried to place another apple on his head, Mingo seized her hand and kissed it flirtatiously.

Tommy's eyes sought Baptiste. The funambulist was laughing as hard as the settlers. Marie Victorine snatched her hand back from Mingo, still giggling. He ducked his head for her. Marie Victorine placed a second apple on his head. Mingo straightened back up again, careful so that the apple would not fall. Marie Victorine backed away, still giggling, blowing kisses. Mingo blew one in return. The women in the crowd sighed romantically. Baptiste was still laughing.

Ricketts was furious. He ran into the clearing shouting, "Indian! What the devil do you think you are doing?" He skidded to a halt less than two feet from the Cherokee, shaking his fist in Mingo's face.

Mingo's voice and face were deadly serious, "You wanted an Indian Clown, Mr. Ricketts. I am clowning."

Then everything happened at once. Tommy heard the loud call of a whippoorwill. The call was repeated. Suddenly there was the loudest, most fearful noise the boy giant had heard in his entire life. A huge monster came rushing across the clearing, making the noise as it came. To Tommy's astonishment, the monster had a person on its back. The arrow slipped through Tommy's fingers in his shock. It flew through the air just as Ricketts stepped away from Mingo. The arrow took Ricketts as neatly in the back of his shoulder as if Tommy had aimed it.

The crowd began to scream, even as it had been laughing moments before. Mothers snatched up their babies and clutched them to their bosoms. Fathers grabbed older childrens' hands and began dragging them towards the trees. Some of the settlers seized their guns and aimed them.

Baptiste and the other hostlers and performers ran into the crowd of screaming settlers, calling for calm, begging them to put down their guns.

Mingo stepped away from the pole, the ropes dropping from his middle as if they had never been knotted at all. Baptiste tosssed the bullwhip. Mingo's left hand shot up and snatched it out of the air. He snapped the whip once tentatively. It cracked like gunshot. The running settlers slowed and looked to see what was going on. Mingo cracked the whip again.

Daniel Boone appeared in the thick of the crowd, waving his arms, waving his coonskin cap in the middle of the rioting settlers, shouting, "Now, hold on there! Hold on, I say! It ain't a monster – it's an elephant, and she ain't gonna hurt any of y'all!"

The authority in the big Kentuckian's voice got the attention of the crowd. Philip, mounted on Old Bet's back, had ridden her far enough away from the settlers that she might be safe from their guns and bullets while Daniel, Baptiste, and the rest of the circus folk calmed the crowd.

Old Bet raised her trunk and trumpeted again. Tommy was mesmerized by the giant animal. He dropped his bow and arrows and hurried toward her. The children in the crowd of settlers began to pull away from their parents, running after Tommy, toward Old Bet and Philip.

The children stopped a safe distance away, pointing and chattering. Tommy walked right up to Old Bet. The elephant seemed as entranced as the giant boy. She put out her trunk, running it gently over Tommy's face and body. He put out a hand, looked deep into Old Bet's wise old eyes, and patted her cheek.

Philip spoke, "Looks like she h'approves of you, laddie!"

Tommy gave Philip a wide, happy smile. He gazed at Old Bet. The elephant continued rubbing her trunk over Tommy's head and face. She pulled the feathers out of his hair and stuffed them into her mouth. Tommy began to laugh.

Daniel and Mingo approached each other, smiling broadly. Mingo coiled his whip awkwardly with one hand, and searched for somewhere to attach it. He was still wearing Marie Victorine's red ribbon for a belt. He threw the bullwhip down. Daniel seized the hand Mingo extended and pumped it.

"You're lookin' a sight better than last time I seen you, Mingo," Daniel said, still smiling. He pointed at Mingo's face, "Seems like you been wearin' war paint a lot lately. Looks good on you."

Mingo laughed. "I had begun to think you would never find us, Daniel! How in the world did you orchestrate all of this?"

Daniel flapped a casual hand at the chaos around them. "I like to come early, get a good seat." he said airily. "These circus folk are right friendly people. Always willin' to lend a hand!" he added, and winked.

The excitement began to die down. The settlers, ready for all the entertainment their shillings would buy them, began to settle down and resumed their places on their blankets and quilts.

The hostler, known to Mingo as Monsieur Chevalier, bustled over to John Bill Ricketts, and examined the arrow sticking out of his back.

"It ain't serious, Mr. Boone!" he called, as if he had known Daniel forever. "Madame La Beard'll have him fixed up in a trice!"

One hundred yards away, Philip searched the crowd. Madame La Beard was still carrying the tray with the glasses and the pitcher of pink lemonade. Their eyes met. She let out a cry of happiness.

Philip slid off the elephant's back and ran toward the bearded woman. She, being of a more practical turn of mind, carefully set her tray aside and ran toward Astley.

Daniel and Mingo watched, astonished, as the red-headed Englishman and the bearded woman met, their arms extended. They clasped each other warmly, and exchanged a long, delighted kiss.

Mingo stopped in his tracks, astonished. Daniel began to laugh, at the uproar all around them, and the revolted look on the Cherokee's face.

Mingo said faintly, "Daniel, please tell me that I am not in the middle of a French farce!"

He gestured around them. Tommy and Old Bet were gazing at each other in mutual admiration, Philip and Madame La Beard were kissing each other passionately, Baptiste seized Marie Victorine, lifted her off her feet, swung her around in a circle so that her skirt swirled, and kissed her too.

Daniel grinned nonchalantly, "Well, Mingo, seems to me, they do say, 'Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.'"

Mingo recognized the quote from "Twelfth Night," the book the Boones had given him for Christmas.

"I am pleased to see you were paying attention while I read to Rebecca and the children, Daniel," he replied, grinning back at the big Kentuckian.

Philip was hurrying toward them, clutching Madame La Beard's hand. "Daniel, Mingo," he began proudly, "Let me h'introduce you to my dear wife, Patsy."

"Patsy?" Mingo exclaimed in tones of disbelief, "Madame La Beard, I thought-"

"'Madame La Beard'?" Philip began to chortle, "Oh, that's rich, Patsy!"

"Mingo, I thought you knew," the bearded woman interjected quickly, "Baptiste and Marie Victorine have given everyone here nicknames. I am 'Madame La Beard', the bearded woman. The skeleton man is 'Monsieur Os', Mr. Bones; the hostler 'Monsieur Chevalier'. I am so sorry, my dear!" she apologized again. "'Martha' is my Christian name – but I have been Mrs. Astley for more than fifteen years!"

"She's always been 'Patsy' to me!" Philip declared in his usual strident tones.

Mingo looked as if his head were reeling from too much information. Daniel began to snicker. Philip too was still laughing. Behind them, the settlers' children crowded around Tommy and Old Bet.

Ricketts was still lying on the ground where he had fallen, groaning in pain. Philip Astley gave him a glare of disgust.

Philip took his wife's hand firmly, and allowed himself to be led to her wagon. "Patsy, my darling, H'i think you ought to 'ave a go at patching John up. H'i'll kill 'im later for kidnapping you and stealing my circus!"

"First things first, Mr. Astley," said the bearded woman, now known to be Mrs. Philip Astley. The smile of happiness on her face made her look twenty years younger.

"Eh, Patsy?" Philip beamed from ear to ear.

Patsy Astley gave her husband one more fond kiss. "Haven't you got a performance to put on?"

****************

Fifteen minutes later, after a hurried consultation in Patsy Astley's wagon, Philip, Daniel, Mingo, Marie Victorine and Baptiste emerged and headed for the scythed area in the middle of the meadow. Old Bet remained near her new love, Tommy, and was pulling leaves off the trees nearby, stuffing them into her mouth.

The bearded woman had yanked the arrow out of Ricketts' back unceremoniously, slathered honey on a wad of bandaging and tied the wound up. Mingo winced, watching. It was obvious Patsy Astley had no love lost for John Bill Ricketts. Mingo was relieved that the care he had received from her had been so much gentler. Philip Astley hurried Ricketts to his own wagon, and pushed him in, locking the door, and pocketing the key.

"Now then," Philip turned to the performers crowded around him, "H'it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last! Now you can show me what you can do! Let's put on that performance."

**************

The settlers roared their excitement and approval as the little group came striding back to the area where the ring had been laid out. It had been decided that the simplest thing would be to follow the order of performance that Ricketts had already established. Philip Astley would take over John Ricketts' performance and act as ringmaster instead of the bored dwarf. Monsieur Chevalier, now known to be named William Smith, cheerfully agreed to fill in for Mingo as the target in Tommy's William Tell act. Patsy Astley, still the candy butcher, went back to selling pink lemonade and treats. Old Bet followed Tommy to the edge of the clearing, and continued eating the scenery.

Daniel and Mingo took their seats at the edge of the crowd.

Tommy and William Smith did their William Tell act perfectly. The crowd cheered loudly as Tommy put arrow after arrow into each target the hostler tossed in the air or balanced on his head.

Marie Victorine and Baptiste performed as if their hearts had taken flight. Daniel had only seen the performance the day they had performed in Boonesborough. In all the weeks with the circus, Mingo had never had an opportunity to see them perform again. They watched Baptiste juggling with the clubs and walking sticks the dwarf tossed up to him. He produced a rope from nowhere, and began to skip the rope while balancing on the tight-rope. The settlers all gasped their astonishment as one. Daniel was barely aware when Tommy came to join them and sank to the ground beside Mingo.

However, when Marie Victorine came out to join her betrothed on the wire, Daniel couldn't help noticing that Tommy sat up alertly. Daniel and Mingo exchanged smiling glances.

Baptiste lowered a rope and Marie Victorine took it in her dainty gloved hand. Baptiste then pulled the girl up to the tight-rope. They exchanged a chaste kiss in front of the crowd. The women in the crowd sighed romantically at the sight of the attractive funambulist pair. Tommy groaned audibly. Daniel caught Mingo's eye, puzzled. Mingo just shrugged.

William Smith came hurrying out with a tiny round table, and two equally tiny chairs. He attached them to the lowered rope and Baptiste lifted them into the air. A little basket was pulled up. To the roars of the crowd, Marie Victorine and Baptiste shared glasses of pink lemonade sitting at the carefully balanced table, on the tiny chairs, on the tight-rope before their astonished eyes.

Alas, there was no more pink lemonade for the settlers to taste. While Patsy Astley watched the newest part of the funambulists' act, Old Bet seized the pitcher from her tray and poured the remaining lemonade into her gaping mouth. Mingo shook his head, laughing, while Daniel lay back on the ground roaring with hilarity at the scandalized look on the bearded woman's face. The elephant's finger-like appendage wandered over the rest of the treats on Patsy's tray. Old Bet picked up a jumbal and stuffed it into her mouth. Patsy Astley slapped her trunk away from the rest of the food. Old Bet took Patsy's beard with her trunk and gave it a yank that caused the woman to drop the tray. Patsy gave a shriek of fury, while the elephant calmly swooped up the rest of the jumbals and marchpane. Tommy beat his fists on the ground, screaming with laughter, Daniel laughed so hard his sides hurt. Tears of mirth rolled down Mingo's face. The settlers howled their approval, shouting with laughter. Philip Astley came running to separate the two loves of his life.

When he could speak again, Daniel whooped, "That's as fine a clown act as I reckon I've seen!"

Mingo agreed, "Better than Punch and Judy! Knowing Philip Astley, it will soon become part of the program. Philip has always loved a good comedy!" The tears streaming down his face smeared with the greasepaint as he rubbed them away.

The show lagged for a few moments while Philip led the elephant away, and secured her with a chain some distance from the ring. Then he vanished into Patsy Astley's wagon.

One of the hostlers came out leading the saddled Cornplanter, as Philip returned. They all sat up again, paying close attention. Daniel and Tommy had never seen Philip perform. It had been years since Mingo had seen one of Philip's performances.

Philip returned from his wife's wagon. He was wearing a red military jacket with large brass buttons, white trousers, and shiny black boots. On his head, to Daniel's surprise, was an ordinary top hat. Philip strode into the center of the crude ring. He stood for a moment rubbing his hands together briskly.

Then he called out in booming tones, "Welcome, welcome, welcome! Are you ready to be DAZED and DISTRACTED? ASTONISHED and AMAZED? SURPRISED and SCINTILLATED?"

The settlers shouted their agreement. Philip smiled broadly, "Then let us begin!"

Daniel watched with great interest.

Though Philip couldn't have been familiar with Cornplanter or his gait, the big man launched himself onto the horse's back as the black stallion cantered steadily around the ring. Philip danced a hornpipe on the animal's back, leapt backwards and forwards over a cane between his hands. He dismounted and mounted again, riding backwards while Cornplanter galloped. He stood on his head, drank from a glass, juggled oranges in the air, and speared them on a large fork. The act was similar to the one they had seen John Bill Ricketts perform in Boonesborough weeks earlier, with a major difference. Ricketts had performed with great technical skill, but no real enthusiasm. Philip Astley acted as if there was no greater happiness in life for him than to ride the black stallion round and round the ring, performing for the wildly applauding settlers. Philip's enthusiasm had communicated itself to Cornplanter. Even the horse performed with more spirit.

While Tommy applauded with the rest, shouting enthusiastically, Daniel looked at the Cherokee for a moment. Mingo's eyes followed Philip around the ring. Daniel cleared his throat loudly.

Mingo didn't take his eyes from Philip Astley. "Yes, Daniel?"

"Philip says you can ride near as well as he can himself," Daniel said mildly. Mingo gave a derisive snort. Daniel grinned. "What was that act you 'n him was tellin' me about in Salem?" Mingo made no response, nor did he take his eyes from Philip and the large black horse.

"It was the baker goin' to London, wasn't it?" Daniel persisted. Mingo removed his arm from the sling he wore and flexed it experimentally.

"Or was it the miller comin' from Liverpool?" Daniel teased.

"Daniel," Mingo said impatiently, "You know as well as I that it is 'the Tailor Riding to Brentford'!" His lips twitched in a smile.

"The devil hates a coward, Mingo," Daniel twitted. "I ain't never seen you turn away from a challenge."

Mingo flashed a wicked grin at Daniel. "A challenge, Daniel? I accept."

*******************

Mingo rose smoothly to his feet. He pulled the sling over his head and tossed it at Tommy, who sat gazing up at him in amazement. "Keep this for me, Tommy. I may still need it!"

Daniel cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted to Philip Astley, still thundering around the ring, "Ain't you missin' a 'tailor', Philip?"

Philip and Cornplanter came to a stop. The Englishman grinned from ear to ear when he realized what Daniel was saying. He jumped nimbly down from Cornplanter's back.

Mingo stepped over the crude ring and walked over to Philip. The greasepaint on his face had streaked and run, he looked more clownish than ever. He spoke to Philip in low tones, gesturing at the horse. Mingo pantomimed mounting the horse, holding the reins, riding around the ring.

Philip turned to the watching settlers. "My friend 'ere says 'e's a crack rider," Philip reported to the crowd in his usual bellowing voice. They began to murmur among themselves. Mingo stood calmly, while Philip spoke to the audience. "Says 'e can ride better'n H'I can!"

The crowd clearly remembered the Indian Clown. There were loud guffaws and encouraging shouts. "Show us what ya kin do, Injun!" shouted one red-necked Scot.

Philip grinned broadly, "Since our friend, John Bill Ricketts-" Philip pronounced the name with profound distaste - the audience booed - "since 'e can't join us, due to 'is being shot by Master Tall Trees, boy giant, with a h'arrow-" the audience began to clap and cheer. Philip warmed to his speech, "Let us 'ave h'our friend, Kerr Murray-" Mingo gave Philip an exasperated look. Philip's face reddened, "H'i mean, Mingo the Cherokee - show us 'ow 'e rides!"

Most of the settlers weren't familiar with circuses or riding school performances. Daniel knew that he, Philip, and Mingo himself would be the only ones who knew that the Cherokee was riding to Brentford. The settlers made themselves comfortable and prepared to watch Mingo's demonstration of 'Injun' riding.

Cornplanter continued to canter around the ring while Philip spoke to the settlers. Mingo waited until the horse passed him, and grabbed for the animal's tail. And missed. He fell flat on his face, to the guffaws of the settlers. Mingo lifted his head, made eye contact with Daniel, grimaced, and pushed himself to his feet. Daniel could tell the Cherokee was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Laughing, Philip stepped back into the ring, and brought Cornplanter to a halt. He pantomimed for Mingo just how to mount a horse. The audience laughed and hooted. Mingo nodded his understanding. He gestured for Philip to release the horse. Mingo put one foot into the stirrup, and mounted quickly. Cornplanter started so quickly, Mingo fell off the other side.

Daniel couldn't help laughing.

Cornplanter continued around the ring. Mingo ran after him, gauged his timing, and leapt for the horse's back. Missing, he shot over the horse's back. This time, he landed lightly on his feet on the other side.

Daniel was astonished. He had always known his Cherokee brother was a man of many talents, but this surpassed anything Daniel could have imagined. Philip was standing in the middle of the ring, holding his sides, roaring with laughter.

Cornplanter had performed this act many times. He thundered around and around, never missing a beat, never faltering as Mingo attempted to mount. Mingo tried three more times to run and mount the cantering horse. Once he managed to seat himself on Cornplanter's back, only to slip off over the animal's tail. Each time, he landed on his feet, frustration plain on his painted face. Finally he leapt, and landed on Cornplanter's back. Facing backwards. The crowd screamed and shouted approval while Mingo thundered around the ring, facing backwards. He grinned broadly, holding on to Cornplanter's tail. He waved to the crowd and almost fell off again.

The settlers began to call encouragement, "Turn around! You're facing wrong!" Mingo pretended deafness, cupping his hand behind his ear. The children of the settlers called louder, "You can do it! Turn around!"

Mingo nodded hugely. He understood. He began to turn himself around on the horse's back. The children screamed their excitement. The Cherokee hadn't turned himself around – he was now riding around the ring flopped over the horse's back like a sack of potatoes.

Daniel had been so busy watching Mingo's perambulations, like the rest of the settlers, that he hadn't noticed Philip dropping scarves around the ring. Mingo snatched one up, still hanging over the horse's back on his stomach. After circling the ring twice, Mingo pulled himself under Cornplanter's stomach and into the saddle. He waved a handful of scarves to the audience. He still rode around the ring as if he might slide off into the crowd at any moment. The settlers shouted encouragement. Cornplanter pounded around and around. Mingo slipped one way first, then the other, almost falling off the horse's back. Each time, when Tommy closed his eyes in horror, he would open them to discover that Mingo had not only managed to right himself in the saddle, but had scooped up another scarf from the ground.

Cornplanter decided when it was time to end the foolishness. He cantered around one last time, then stopped so suddenly Mingo flew off over his head. He landed on his feet in front of the horse, both hands full of the scarves he had picked up. He waved his arms and bowed, laughing. The crowd went wild. Mingo stood panting slightly, beaming broadly, enjoying the reaction of the crowd.

Philip ran to Mingo and threw his arms around the astonished Cherokee. "Bloody 'ell, Mingo!" he sputtered, "You've got a job 'ere with me h'any time you want h'it!"

Mingo carefully detached himself from Philip. "Thank you, Philip - I will take it under consideration!"

Tommy was next, crowing excitedly, pounding Mingo on the back, "I thought you done killed yourself for sure, Mingo!" The boy's slap made the Cherokee's knees buckle.

Marie Victorine came running, Baptiste close behind. She squealed, "Chéri, what naughtiness is this? You convinced us all that you could not do the flip-flap! I thought you would kill yourself completely!"

She pulled Mingo's head down and gave him a kiss on the lips. Under the smeared paint, it was impossible to tell the Cherokee's reaction, but Marie Victorine came away from the kiss with greasepaint on her pretty little nose and lips. She now looked like a clown too.

Baptiste took one of the scarves from Mingo, and wiped his beloved's face free of greasepaint. "You are quite the actor, mon ami!" he said, smiling. "You do not belong with the circus - you should be treading the boards!"

Mingo turned away from the excited performers. He was wiping the greasepaint off his face when he became aware of Daniel Boone standing there. Daniel's hands were on his hips. It was hard to decipher the look on his face; a mixture of pride, humor, and worry. He handed Mingo the sling. While Daniel watched, Mingo slipped his arm back into it.

"Quite a little adventure you had yourself, ain't it?" Daniel said. 


	21. Epilogue

Epilogue

It was early evening by the time the last settlers had gathered their children and possessions, and departed, laughing, still discussing the Indian Clown's astonishing performance.

It was darker still when the performers all gathered around a large fire. It had been a long, exhausting, exhilarating day for most of them. They were eating a large pot of stew, cooked by the skeletal Mr. Bones, who was the circus cook.

Philip Astley sat clutching his wife's hand. Madame La Beard, Martha, was Philip Astley's beloved wife! Mingo shook his head, chuckling inwardly. He felt guilty about his feelings of revulsion for the poor woman. She had been a prisoner no less than he and Tommy had. He looked up; Patsy Astley caught his eye and smiled broadly. He looked at her more closely. In spite of the brown curling beard, she had a fine pair of long-lashed brown eyes, and a sweet smile. She clearly adored her bombastic husband, who plainly found her the finest of women.

Marie Victorine was sitting in Baptiste's lap. The two were billing and cooing like a pair of turtle doves.

Daniel spoke quietly into his ear, "I don't recollect ever bein' that young."

"Nor that much in love," Mingo added, with a hidden pang, thinking of a beautiful young lady, many years before. "Tommy will take this badly," Mingo said, glancing around for the boy giant. "He fancied himself in love with Mademoiselle Rousseau."

"Nah," Daniel waved airily, "I think he's fallen in love with Old Bet!"

The elephant trumpeted in the evening darkness, and Tommy's shout of laughter reached them, sitting around the fire. The two of them were playing in the barrel of pink water. Old Bet plunged her trunk in, then squirted the laughing boy.

Philip's voice was as loud as usual, "The minx squirted 'im with 'er trunk. She's right playful, she h'is," he said fondly. He stood up, dusted off the seat of his britches, and resolutely headed for the Ricketts wagon.

Mingo sighed deeply. Daniel looked up, "You all right, Mingo? I shouldn't have goaded you into doin' something so foolhardy." The arrow wound in Mingo's arm had broken open during his impromptu performance. Patsy Astley had clucked and chided, while bandaging the wound. She insisted he put it back into the sling, and keep it there.

Mingo met his gaze, smiling. "I'm praying, Daniel, that no one in Boonesborough will believe your tale of Mingo the Cherokee playing 'Indian Clown'!"

"Oh, I dunno, Mingo," Daniel responded slyly. "I reckon it'll keep us goin' around many a campfire this comin' winter. Israel will believe every word I tell him."

Mingo closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the tree they were sitting under. "I am too old and too tired for the flip-flap, Daniel. Remind me, please, to tomahawk you another day."

Soft snores began to waft from the Cherokee. Daniel regarded him for a moment, smiling.

Suddenly, there was shouting from the wagon the Ricketts family occupied. Philip Astley's voice was doing most of the shouting.

Daniel sauntered over, as Philip jumped down the steps. He was still fuming, "H'i should've killed 'im today. Should've let the boy go ahead and scalp 'im or shoot 'im full of arrows. Never trusted a word the scurvy knave uttered."

"What is it, Philip?" Daniel asked, as he and Philip moved back to the campfire.

"'E ain't got a lick of shame!" Philip said bitterly. "Warned you myself, didn't H'i, what a scoundrel the makebait h'is?"

Daniel nodded, "You did indeed, Philip."

He waited. Philip burst out, "Ricketts 'as some brass, friend Daniel. 'E says H'i can't press charges against 'im – 'e's my partner," Philip spat the word out distastefully. "'E's been h'acting h'in my best h'interests, says 'e." Philip's eyes flashed angrily. "Right-ho, 'ow in bloody 'ell stealing my circus h'is in my own best h'interests. . ." he muttered angrily. "Kidnapping my own wife and my people. . ."

Daniel shook his head, "Actually, Philip, he might be right. If you and he had a signed contract lettin' him travel with your circus and your performers, it'd be hard to make charges stick against him."

Philip muttered, "H'it was 'is h'idea for the contract, Daniel! An 'andshake's always been plenty good enough for me! H'i wish H'i'd never left H'England! Never thought of takin' up with this wolf in sheep's clothing!"

Daniel led the infuriated Englishman back to the fireside. "Philip, why don't you take Old Bet and Patsy, and anyone else who wants to go, back to England? Leave the Colonies for Ricketts. If that big head of his don't finish him off, the Indians will!"

Philip looked interested, "H'always 'ad a mind to conquer Europe. Those Frenchies do h'appreciate a good show, H'i must say!" He rubbed his hands together in the gesture Daniel was becoming familiar with. "Let me discuss h'it with my Patsy." He led his wife back to her wagon, and climbed in and closed the door firmly.

Daniel poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot by the fire. Before he could take the first sip, he heard his name called.

Marie Victorine and Baptiste, clutching hands, came out of the darkness then. Tommy was close behind them.

"Monsieur Boone!" the petite funambulist hailed him.

What next? Daniel wondered.

"Tommee says you are a magistrate, Monsieur Boone," Marie Victorine could hardly speak for excitement. "You could perform the marriage ceremony for Baptiste and me, non?" Her heart-shaped face was radiant with hope.

Baptiste hurried to explain, "We do not wish to remain with Monsieur Ricketts, nor would we like to travel to England. Victorine and I would like to go north to Canada – to Québec. I am a wanted man, Monsieur Boone. I would feel safer far away from New Orleans." He raised his hands in supplication at Daniel's sharp look. "I will tell you the truth: I have told Mingo already. I am certain he believes me."

Daniel smiled suddenly, "That's good enough for me. I'd like to head for Boonesborough tomorrow, though. How soon was you reckonin' on gettin' hitched?"

"Tommee, you will give me away?" Marie Victorine whirled on the surprised boy, pleading prettily.

"Might as well, Mam'zelle," Tommy gave in graciously, frowning slightly at the thought of giving his ladylove to another.

Baptiste gestured toward the softly snoring Cherokee, and laughed. "Give me but one moment, monsieur, to awaken the best man."

*************

It might not have been the most routine wedding Daniel had ever officiated, but it certainly was heartfelt.

Tommy sobbed as he surrendered Marie Victorine to Baptiste's welcoming embrace. A bunch of wildflowers had been hastily gathered from the woods for Marie Victorine's wedding bouquet. Mingo stifled his yawns and produced the ring - one of Patsy Astley's own - at the correct time. Patsy Astley, ribbons festooning her curly beard, served as the matron of honor for Marie Victorine. Philip Astley, clearly an emotional person, and the rest of the circus performers wept tears of happiness for the two funambulists. Old Bet snatched the bouquet from Marie Victorine and stuffed it into her mouth, provoking laughter at last from Philip and Tommy. The absence of the Ricketts family was not remarked on.

"By the powers vested in me as magistrate for the Settlement of Boonesborough, County of Kaintuck, State of Virginia, which we're sovereign to, I now pronounce you, Marie Victorine and Jean-Paul Baptiste husband and wife," Daniel intoned solemnly. "Go ahead and kiss your bride, Baptiste."

They exchanged a long kiss, while the wedding guests cheered and applauded. They were circus performers, after all.

"What will you do now, Madame Blondin, Baptiste?" Mingo inquired, discreetly hiding a yawn..

Marie Victorine sighed with happiness, "We shall go to Montréal and raise another generation of funambulists. Les Canadiens Français will appreciate a good show as much as the Parisians!"

Philip Astley spoke, "Daniel, Mingo, H'I believe we'll find a ship h'in Philadelphia and take passage for London. My Patsy misses our riding school h'in Lambeth. We'll go back to Lambeth until we raise the money for taking the circus to Paree! L'H'amphitheatre H'Anglais! 'As a fine ring to h'it, don't h'it?"

"H'it does h'indeed, Philip," Mingo said seriously. He grimaced at the Cockney accent coming from himself.

Daniel grinned suddenly, "Philip, before you go, would you mind askin' Patsy if she'll leave that there bottle of honey for Mingo?"

***************

Tommy stroked Old Bet's face tenderly; she in turn ran her trunk fondly over the boy's head and face, touching his now-long hair, tasting his clothing. They were nearly eye to eye.

"You ready to head for home, boy?" Daniel inquired, "The girls'll have been missin' you something fierce these last weeks!" He smiled and added, "Or will you miss bein' a 'human oddity' in the sideshow, playin' William Tell for the settlers?"

Tommy looked at Daniel and scowled, "I ain't gonna miss the circus 'specially, but that ol' elephant -"

Philip spoke up, "The boy would be most welcome to join my circus. H'i'd give you my word of 'onor to send 'im back to the Colonies h'any time 'e'd tire of circus life. 'E shan't lack for anything." Philip's expression made it clear that he doubted the sanity of anyone who might tire of circus life.

Perhaps the circus was the right place for a boy who fit in nowhere else.

"Is that what you wish, Tommy?" Mingo asked gently. "We are speaking of months or years, not merely days."

"You reckon it'd be all right, Mingo?" Tommy said thoughtfully, "Ol' Menewa won't be mad if I leave the Cherokees so soon? What about Mrs. Rebecca? Israel? How 'bout Tekawitha and 'Mima?"

"There'll always be a home for you in Boonesborough, or at Chota," Daniel assured him.

"Boy howdy!" Tommy whooped. He sobered suddenly, "I'll miss Chota 'n you, Mingo. I sure do like this 'ol elephant, but I feel like I ain't never gonna see you again!"

"You will see me again, Tommy," Mingo promised.

***************

The circus began its departure at first light. The Ricketts family's wagon was already gone, as were those performers who preferred to stay with the Scottish horseman. Cornplanter, and the ponies as well as several other horses had gone as well.

Philip Astley shook his head at their departure. "H'it takes all kinds to make a world," he said mildly. "H'it ain't h'in me to 'ate any man. That ain't to say that H'i'm wishing 'im all the best either, though!" he said, and laughed.

Marie Victorine and Baptiste Blondin's wagon pulled out then, with the two funambulists on the box. Baptiste bowed grandly, Marie Victorine waved and blew kisses. They were heading north for Canada.

Tommy's sigh could be heard even from where he was perched on Old Bet's broad back. Philip hurried over to the elephant, and shouted "Down, Bet!" She sank to her knees and elbows obediently, and Philip seized her headgear and hoisted himself onto her back.

"Now, boy," Philip could be heard saying, "H'if you're going to learn to train a h'elephant, you've got to learn the commands! Firstly, there's 'Up!'" Old Bet rose obediently to her feet.

The sight of the giant boy, and the loud-voiced Englishman, together on the back of the elephant made Daniel laugh.

The rest of the wagons snapped to order, and began to pull out. Twelve circus wagons, brightly painted, trailed by the hostlers with strings of animals, followed Philip Astley and Old Bet, with the boy giant perched behind, his laughter echoing. The sun was already bright in the sky, the scent of summer in the air.

The two tall Kentuckians stood watching them go, waving.

Daniel turned to Mingo, "You think you can stand to leave all this flummery for Boonesborough? It ain't too late for Philip to give you a job as a 'tailor'."

"No, Daniel," Mingo said blandly, "I think a life of quiet boredom - hunting, trapping, fighting the Shawnee - suits me just fine!"

He and Mingo exchanged a long look; they shouldered their rifles, and put on their packs.

"Let's go home. Becky and the young'uns are waitin'."

Mingo nodded, and smiled; Daniel began to whistle tunelessly, and the two tall Kentuckians headed for home. 


End file.
